


Small Bones of Courage

by Maedelmae



Series: Cassandra and Her Troubles [1]
Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Car Accidents, Digital Art, F/F, F/M, Feral Behavior, Foreign Language, Gandalf Does Not Know All, Language Barrier, M/M, Miscommunication, Misunderstandings, Modern Girl in Middle Earth, Not Really Character Death, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Petty Theft, Poor Elrond, Slow Burn, Theft, Underestimation, brief sex with an elf, main character goes a little feral, mystery girl, they literally do not understand a word she is saying, traveling under suspicious circumstances
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-11
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 13:55:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,126
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28689783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maedelmae/pseuds/Maedelmae
Summary: In a cruel twist of fate, Cassandra, a modern day nerd, grows tired of the mundane and goes for a spontaneous road trip. When it turns fatal, she finds herself clawing her way through the inner workings of Middle Earth. Having watched the movies her entire life and read every piece of fan fiction there was, and without knowing what a single character is saying, she sets off with Thorin and his Company in an attempt to stop their untimely fates.Or: Local girl tries to stop hot dwarves from getting killed despite language barrier.
Relationships: Bilbo Baggins/Dwalin, Bilbo Baggins/Dwalin/Thorin Oakenshield, Bilbo Baggins/Thorin Oakenshield, Dwalin/Thorin Oakenshield, Fíli (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s), Original Female Character/Original Female Character
Series: Cassandra and Her Troubles [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2102883
Comments: 33
Kudos: 118





	1. Rough Starts

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Oh, Son of A---](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3822802) by [StrivingArtist](https://archiveofourown.org/users/StrivingArtist/pseuds/StrivingArtist). 



> Hello! I am very sad and so I decided to post this. I have been working on it for a few months now, since my last hobbit fic was finished actually, and even though I'm not finished I decided posting the first chapter would be the kick in the pants I needed. I have ten long chapters written so I have a little bit of a buffer, but updating might be sporadic, so just stick with me.
> 
> I'm going through a lot right now, mostly dealing with intense isolation bc all my friends have moved literally hundreds of miles away from me and you can't really meet new people during a pandemic (even though I did, but that's another can of worms lmao). So if you are also feeling very isolated and sad, feel free to hit me up at my instagram: @yo.its.alright 
> 
> I hope you all enjoy this fic. I love you so much, and I am so grateful you chose to click on my story. \\\
> 
> This is part of a series of work that is in no way connected to each other but merely a collection of fandoms with the same Original character in them. Again, can be read independently. 
> 
> I love you!!
> 
> Also: quick reference: Italicized text will be used in place of an actual foreign language.

**.oOo.**

Fili was having a great time laughing at Mr. Baggins’ expense. 

The silly Hobbit had been running around all night like a chicken with its head cut off, demanding food be returned to the pantry, chairs not be sat in, and weirdly enough, dishes not be cleaned. 

So, he, his brother, and Bofur had egged him on, singing naughty little songs and tormenting their host. Really, the excuse could be made that he was testing the halfling’s mettle. 

Then his uncle got there and gave the halfling quite the dressing down, stating that Mr. Baggins looked more like a grocer than a burglar, and asked if the confounded thing had ever held a weapon in his life. 

Then the whole matter of the quest had been discussed and Gandalf had all yelled at them that the halfling was indeed a burglar, and not just a soft little man. However, it wasn’t until the contract was handed to Mr. Baggins that something went truly awry. 

The halfling had been panicking over the contents of the contract, lamenting over funeral expenses and remunerations. Then he got to the dragon part. Fili could admit himself that he had grown a little green along the gills when the detailed methods of dying had been written out and read aloud by Balin some months ago. But the halfling had been pacing and talking to himself, muttering and whining all the way. 

Bofur, perhaps taking the teasing too far, had enunciated the dying methods. 

“Think furnace with wings.” 

But before the pale Mr. Baggins had the time to faint, a knock came from the door. Already in the entryway, the Hobbit took a couple of extra steps to reach the large round door. He swung the door open and quite firmly stated:

“No more dwarves!” 

A distinctly female voice on the other side sounded through the silent hall.

“Bilbo! _ I am so happy to see you! _ ”

She spoke a foreign language the Fili could not make heads or tails of. The dwarves around him went to the door behind Mr. Baggins, who still looked rather sickly.

“Hello?” Balin asked.

“What?” Nori asked.

“Who is at the door?” Gloin asked.

“I’m-I’m sorry, but-but do I know you?” Bilbo asked.

“ _ May I come in? _ ” 

Finally, the Hobbit fainted, knocking his head on the polished wood floor underneath him. 

“Mr. Baggins!” Bofur exclaimed, “Ye’ve lost yer head!”

And indeed he had. 

“Back, back away!” The wizard called. “Give him some room, I will take him to his study. Dori, would you mind terribly making some tea?”

“Not at all, Mr. Gandalf. A pot will be ready momentarily.”

“Good, that’s good.” The wizard muttered, picking up the limp Hobbit and carrying him to a different room. 

Fili, however, did not forget about the guest on the other side of the door. 

He, Kili, and Bofur all turned at the same time to examine the girl. 

She was young. She had scars, long and thick across her nearly bare chest. Scratches and gouges littered her face. She wore a light dress that had once flowed easily, the sleeves split down the shoulder to reveal scarred, pocked skin. It was now hanging awkwardly over her scarred shoulders in tatters, leaving little to the imagination in a way that caused his cheeks to alight. Her hair was shoulder length and was of an indiscernible colour between orange and light brown, except for closest to her scalp where the color was ashy and greying. 

She looked nervous, but excited. 

“ _ Guys! Hey! Should I come in? I’m worried about  _ Bilbo _. Is  _ Gandalf  _ gonna make sure he’s okay? _ ” 

“You know the wizard?”

Her face turned towards him. 

.oOo.

She knew at once that they were speaking different languages. If she had just happened to enter in the cheat code that allowed her to clip through worlds, there was no assurance that the language would be the same. 

She knew many words in different languages, the most prominent being Spanish, German, Gaelic, and Cherokee. She had the most annoying habit of accidentally speaking in another language when she meant to say a word in English, she also had the annoying habit of hopping from accent to accent. 

So she knew that what they were speaking was nothing she knew. It sounded almost like french, the syllables melding together into one discernable mush. Except she knew a few important french phrases and knew it was not in fact the language they were speaking.

But never mind this, Bilbo had passed out right in front of her and Gandalf had picked him up and left. She wisely kept quiet, but her entire body hurt (most likely from dimension travel, if she could guess) and she was tired and cold and hungry. 

She inched closer to the doorjamb. 

Knowing the dwarves would most likely not understand her, she asked if Gandalf had helped Bilbo. She loved Gandalf, he was her imaginary father. 

“ _ You know the wizard? _ ” Fili asked, looking handsome and lion-like. He was prettier in person. 

“Gandalf.” She said instead, knowing that despite the fact that names  _ could _ be translated, they almost rarely were. 

“Gandalf,” Fili repeated, obviously recognizing the language barrier. He waved her in and she politely stepped through the doorway, wiping her sore and bare feet against the mat, ridding her soles of the schmutz she had picked up through the journey. 

Fili was quickly pulled into a conversation with Kili, talking in another different language from the first one. This one was harsher, reminding her of the russian or german language. Must have been Khuzdul. They both had serious expressions on their faces. She was growing concerned. 

Here she was, in a place she only knew as fiction, with her dress barely covering her and nothing but a few items to her name. Would they kick her out? She had nowhere else to go.

“Fili? Kili?” She asked quietly, hoping they wouldn’t get rid of her before she at least had the chance to sit down and warm up. 

They looked at her in alarm. 

They hadn’t told her their names and she had now ruined everything. She knew from the movies and various fanfic over the years that dwarrow were very suspicious people. And now she had just given them probable cause to kill her. 

A large paw landed firmly on her scarred, bare shoulder. 

“ _ What did ye say lass? _ ” Dwalin asked, anger in his voice, glaring at her. 

“I don’t… I don’t understand! I’m sorry!” 

She squatted down quickly, trying to reconcile something. Her pack was near empty, but it was a burden nonetheless. She wrapped her hands around her head. She needed to think, damnit! Come on, she was a smart, intelligent girl, she can weasel her way out of this. 

She stood up suddenly, pushing up on her toes, throwing the dwarves who were leaning over her back a few steps. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Now or never. 

She looked at Dwalin, the instigator. 

“Dwalin” She pointed at him, “Balin, Nori, Gloin, Bifur, Bombur, Oin, Ori, Fili, Bofur, Kili, Thorin.” She pointed at every single one of them before pointing in the direction of the kitchen. “Dori.” Then she pointed towards the other room. “Gandalf, Bilbo.” 

The dwarves were stunned to silence. 

.oOo.

  



	2. A Wonderful Life

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes she felt too much. In the cracks of her busy schedule she enjoys entertaining thoughts of living in another world. And then one day, she leaves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I was in the middle of writing the chapter summary when my dog threw up all over me and the couch so I'm having a not very good time right now. Also heard a random noise outside while alone, so am now passing away. 
> 
> This is pretty much a backstory chapter explaining how mystery girl ended up where she is. More explanations and exposition happen later, so stay tuned! 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who commented and kudos so far, It really means a lot to me, especially since I'm having a hard time right now. 
> 
> I love you!! Thanks for reading, and I hope you like the chapter!

“ _ I think it is very important for people to run away… from home, from the mainstream, from their _

_ family, from their culture, from the society that produced them… because the moment I have to _

_ learn something new, like new habits, new languages, I myself have something like a rebirth. I _

_ reduce myself to the lowest denominator and this is very healthy for an artist. To start all over _

_ again.” _

_ -Saul Steinberg _

Sometimes her yearning for another life, another world, made her cry. 

Emotions would swirl around her and take her by surprise, leaving her to sit alone without moving for days on end. 

But she didn’t have days on end to sit around and wallow for something that logistically would never happen. No, her life was too busy for that. It felt at times that she would never have a moment to herself. Classes all day, a small tea break, meetings all evening, a forty five minute commute, a small dinner, more work to prepare for the next day, and then it was fifteen minutes of reading before bed. Rinse and repeat. 

Her days had grown monotonous and boring as all hell, even for someone as busy as her. 

So, in the wake of these bouts of emotions that she could only really flesh out properly from the privacy of her own room, she cut it into other events. Crying in the car, staring into space over a tea-cup, going to other worlds in books hidden away for the time between meetings. It didn’t feel fair that everything she enjoyed in life had been tempered and whittled into a mockery of what it once was. 

She had had dreams and aspirations. 

She wanted to be an artist, restoring paintings and bringing beauty back to life. She wanted to live in a cottage and walk to foreign places just to see the magnitude of nature. She wanted to camp out under the stars and be reminded that she really didn’t matter. She wanted to be pushed by the unforgiving waves of the ocean and lost in the tides of life. 

Her mother told her she felt too much. 

And she supposes this is true. And maybe it was during one of these bouts of ‘feeling too much’ when she decided to ditch all of her responsibilities and leave. 

Equipped with her brother’s pack and sleeping bag from his boy-scout days, she set out with eighty dollars in cash and jewelry, and a tent lived rolled up in the bed of an old ford ranger truck from the mid-80’s. 

She brought other stuff, of course, she grabbed a couple of her favorite books, her sketchbook and a tin case of pencils, an envelope of vintage photos she had collected and didn’t want to part with—and slipped amongst them were important documents: her birth certificate, social security card, and her tribal blue card. She also had a small tin box full of tiny objects she had found (most notably an opal stone, a tiny key that unlocked nothing, and a tiny glass turtle). An old gold pocket watch that had stopped working. A bottle of iron supplements—though there were only a couple left. And finally her baby blanket. 

She intended to never return to a mundane life. 

.oOo.

She supposes this wish to never return is what jinxed the trip. 

The rain had poured down heavily four days into her trip and the roads had grown slick. It didn’t help that she was now on a four lane highway in the dark. The truck, while fun to drive, was not necessarily the safest. The gas gauge didn’t work, the only working mirror she had was the rear view mirror, the seat belt hung limply across her chest—applying no real pressure, it couldn’t go faster than 75 miles—80 if you were pushing it, the coolant was leaking, and, oh yeah, the brakes were terrible. 

A red light up ahead came faster at her than she would’ve liked, illuminating the rain-covered windshield. She registered the brake lights and hit hers in response, a little too fast. 

She lost control of the car, the back wheels couldn’t find traction and she was swerving off of the highway, drifting across all four lanes in the process. She gripped the wheel so tight that the broken piece of the cover had bitten into the meat of her palm. Then the car eventually rolled to a stop. 

She took a deep breath, tears in her eyes, blind with panic. Her heart was beating a tattoo against her ribcage. However, she had failed to notice the position she had landed in. The car had stopped sideways in the middle of two lanes. And the engine had stalled and wouldn’t start. She stomped on the pedals, to no avail and screamed as she thrashed wildly in her seat, beating the steering wheel. 

The dark rain had cut down the visibility of every single driver on the road that night. A fact that was only discovered a minute later. By the time she had been able to see the blaring headlights coming right towards her at high speed, it was far too late. 

The truck was smashed into by a semi-truck driving cross country. Its body and passenger were sent flying into a ditch just off the road. 

She died slowly. It was the worst pain she had ever felt, clutching her precious pack and hoping someone would save her as she bled out. 

.oOo.

She had woken up rather quickly, which wasn’t really a surprise. She tended to wake up quickly, always with nausea at the back of her throat—mostly due to anxiety for the day ahead. In the present, she had awoken rather tired, feeling drained from an endeavor unknown to her.

Her pack was snuggled to her chest by her scarred arms. Huh. She didn’t remember having those scars there. She peeled the fabric of the pack from her sweat-sticky skin and assessed the damage. Her summer dress was shredded, the skirt hanging from the waist band in tatters, and the top not doing anything to hide her chest. This had been her favorite informal dress—blue and with flowers, and was greatly saddened to see it ruined. At least no blood had stained it, it would have made her seem even more suspicious than she already was.

Under her ruined dress there lay more scars. A long thick band spanning from her left shoulder to her right hip bone had been revealed. The mark was red and had risen up from the original tissue. A large scar marred her left leg, no doubt where it had been crushed in the car accident. 

Oh. The car accident. 

She specifically remembers feeling cold, wet, and dark. She had been bleeding out, so how is it she is here, in what looks like a thick, dense forest, and not in a hospital or some sort? And she remembered the wreck in vivid detail, as though it were not that long ago. In fact, her heart was still racing with adrenaline. So why was she healed to this point already? Had she been in a coma? But then why was she in a forest? Was this the afterlife?

She didn’t know. 

She stood up. Her feet were bare. She had thrown her shoes off day two of the trip and had not taken the initiative to put them back on, as she loathed any sort of foot covering with an unhealthy vigor. Good thing the grass underfoot was relatively soft. 

She grabbed her pack and slung it over her scarred shoulders, the contents of the tin box clanked quietly accompanied by the rattling of the iron pills. She was really just waiting for the shock to set in, waiting for the adrenaline to leave her system and waiting for her body to turn into mush. It wouldn’t be too long now. 

But at the moment, she realized she was rather hungry. She needed to get out of the forest before she starved. She needed to find some sort of civilization, literally anything. Then she could call her mom and cry and apologize and beg for forgiveness. She really wanted to go home now, and she was sorry she took her responsibilities for granted. She would go through a boring life if it meant she got to go home to her comfortable bed and her stuffed bear that she had left behind.

So she set to walking in one direction, hoping it was the right one, and would lead her out of the forest soon rather than taking her deeper into the wooded terrain. 

.oOo.

Her trek was dark and the only light provided to her was the moonlight that shone through the dense tree canopy. Her light sensitive eyes were thankful, although her stumbling feet were not. The moon moved through the sky as time passed and about two hours later she saw hope. 

Finally, it seemed as though the forest was ending. 

The trees thinned out and spilled into something she could only describe as a meadow. But this wasn’t just a meadow. It was farmland. She would recognize the sight of sleeping cows and fields of corn anywhere, her grandfather lived out in the country after all and she visited as frequently as she could for a chance to ride the horses that lived out in the pasture.

But nevermind that, she was finally out of the forest and now she could ask the nice farmer if she could use their phone to beg for her old life back. 

It wasn’t until she got closer that she realized something. 

The doors were round. 

The image had been burned into her memory early in childhood, at the tender age of two years old. She would know the sight anywhere. 

It was a smial. 

How could it be a smial? She was heading towards Colorado, not New Zealand. There was no way in hell she would be in the Shire. Right? Right? It was something she had dreamed of, sure. She had frequently followed around her younger brother, asking him where he would want to live if he was in Middle Earth. He had always replied that he didn’t care, but she always interrupted him expressing her desire to inhabit the Shire. 

Hobbits were her kind of people. She always looked for slightly pointed ears in her reflection, always tried to compare the hair on her feet to a Hobbit’s to make her feel better about the bullying. She ate several small meals a day and memorized the Hobbit meal schedule, and had tried several times to make Bilbo’s seed cake, quoting Samwise Gamgee’s quote about potatoes the entire time. 

So, it was with no small amount of pleasure that she started racing around the foot paths, trying to see if there was one smial in particular. If this was a dream, then Bag End would be there, and if this was some sort of after life, well then, she didn’t really know. 

It took a few long minutes of frantic searching before she finally found the large hill under a tree. 

Bag End. 

She just hoped to catch Bilbo, or Frodo here. It would be nice to see a familiar face from childhood. Especially if it was Frodo, remembering the small action figure she had of him that she had carried with her everywhere until her brother lost it. 

She practically ran up the path and jumped over the gate in her excitement. 

A glowing blue rune was carved into the green-painted wood near the ground and she gasped. 

The dwarves were here. 

Her grin grew wider and she nearly threw herself at the door, knocking quite loudly, making her scarred knuckles hurt. 

The door swung open. 

“ _ No more dwarves! _ ” A stern, foreign but polite voice sounded. She could not recognize the words being spoken, but she knew immediately who spoke them. Her smile grew wider. 

“Bilbo!” She announced happily. “I am so happy to see you!”

“ _ Hello? _ ” 

“ _ What? _ ”

“ _ Who is at the door? _ ”

The voices of several familiar dwarves echoed in the house behind the Hobbit, who was standing rather pale and staring directly at her. She still didn’t understand a lick of what was happening, nor did she care anymore. Chances are, she was dead. 

“ _ I’m-I’m sorry, but-but do I know you? _ ”

She shook her head, trying to indicate that she couldn’t understand him. 

“May I come in?” 

The Hobbit fainted. 

Shouts echoed from behind. 

.oOo.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So how'd I do? (Also the quote at the beginning of the chapter was a one time occurrence, unless you want me to put more quotes bc I have a lot, but I don't want anybody to get annoyed at them like I do when reading them in other fics)


	3. Always Half Strange

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thorin despises the little creature that was now sitting at the dining room table, and he hates her even more the next morning when she demands to sign the contract.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I am learning more about the formatting on Ao3 in this one hour than I have in the past four and a half years when I started writing. 
> 
> I just started classes last week, and I am being killed slowly by the work load, so if I forget to update please don't hold it against me. I'll try my best to get more chapters on here. 
> 
> I drew a picture of the main character for this work! I went for a cartoon-y style as realism isn't really my forte, so I hope y'all like it. It took me way too long to figure out how to add images. 
> 
> There's going to be some Sindarin and Khuzdul in this chapter, and I'll try and figure out how to do hover text, but the translations will for sure be in the end note no matter what. (I wasn't able to figure out hover text 😭)
> 
> Thank you everybody for kudosing, commenting, bookmarking, and subscribing, it really means a lot to me. 
> 
> I love you! Hope you enjoy the chapter.

In the moments it took for the dwarves to fully register what the girl had said, they could have been killed. 

The girl, although she looked harmless, could be dangerous. Distracting his men with her feminine wiles under the assumption of duress. She was heavily scarred, surely from fights obviously won, seeing how she was not yet dead. 

Thorin could only assume she realized her error in speaking their names. If she was a spy, she had just put her entire mission in danger and could be killed for it. That was why the girl had panicked. 

Her eyes were wide and frantic, and he wondered what her original purpose for knocking on the door was. 

The wizard and burglar came out of an adjoined room at the commotion his men were causing. 

“What’s all this? Why are you all yelling?” the so-called burglar called out, incensed. 

“She’s a spy sent to kill us! She knows all of our names!” Gloin cried angrily. 

“The girl?”

“Yes!” several of them shouted at once, making the girl jump at the volume. No doubt paranoid that they would kill her for her betrayal. She wasn’t wrong.

“The same girl who isn’t wearing proper clothes and is dirty, shivering, and hungry?”

“It could be a ploy!” Gloin cried again, he was always very paranoid. 

“Nonsense. Come on, lass, I don’t know what is left, but there is bound to be something you can eat.” 

“ _ Are you okay,  _ Bilbo?”

“I don’t know what you are saying. Though I don’t doubt you can understand me half as well as I understand you.” 

But nonetheless, the girl followed the fussy little Hobbit, letting herself be led further into the depths of the house. 

The dwarves stood there silently, watching as she plopped down at the kitchen table and kicked her legs, watching Mr. Baggins putter around the kitchen, throwing together something to eat from nothing. The girl rested her head on the table and seemed to deflate. 

Finally, the halfling stood next to the table with a plate of something Thorin couldn’t make out. The girl, it seemed, had fallen asleep. Her pack was still on her back. The burglar gently set the plate down and cleared his throat before setting the plate on the table. She jumped up with wide eyes and looked around before looking back at Bilbo. 

“Food.” The halfling gestured to the plate. 

“Food,” the girl said back. Mr. Baggins smiled widely. 

Perhaps Thorin had been wrong. This girl was obviously not dangerous in any capacity, he could take her out easily. But just because she wasn’t a threat didn’t mean she didn’t carry any threats with her. 

The dwarves around him relaxed as the girl ate with her hands, ignoring the presence of the silverware next to her, like a wild animal. Thorin stood stiffly to the side. If anything happened or had followed her—he wanted to be prepared. 

The wizard walked into the kitchen and sat down next to the feasting girl and watched with certain amusement as she finished wolfing down her meal. 

“Gandalf.” The girl said. It still made Thorin’s skin crawl at her knowledge of their names. What else did she know? What were her intentions? There were still too many factors, and even though she did appear weak and hungry, she still could pose danger to their already dangerous plan.

“What is your name, dear girl?” The wizard asked in a genteel manner. 

“She doesn’t speak westron. We’ve already tried.” Bofur piped up.

“Very well,” the wizard said, “I shall try other languages to see if she is familiar with any.”

Gandalf cycled through many languages, and all of them held their breath. 

The girl had perked up at the sound of Sindarin, and loath as Thorin was at the thought of the elves and their language, he would have at least welcomed any chance to interrogate her. 

“Mellon.” The girl said. The word meant friend in Sindarin and everyone in attendance perked up at the phrase. “Mae Govannen.  Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo.” Gandalf and Bilbo both leaned forward, as though they had cracked the code. She spoke Sindarin! Then the girl continued and their hopes were slashed. “ Novaer. Annon Allon. Vanamelda. Ada. Anfangrim. Cened.” The girl continued, and Gandalf dropped his brow as Bilbo reclined back in his chair in disappointment. It was quite clear she only knew those few words in the language, despite the fact that it had seemed she had a grasp on the language. 

“ _ I’m sorry, for all that I’ve memorized the plot lines, I never got around to learning  _ Sindarin _ or  _ Khuzdul _. I know a few words in  _ Khuzdul _. Mostly from fanfic, but that was a while ago—before I got so busy. I know  _ Durinultarg, Amrâlimê, Mizimith, Adad, Amad, Nadad, Fasl, Du Bekar, Shazara.  _ And that’s pretty much it. _ ”

The dwarves stood silently around Thorin. How did she know so much Khuzdul? She wasn’t a dwarf. Additionally, what she did know had been confusing, going from curses, to professions of love to family relations to private body parts and then commands. 

The girl was a mystery for sure.

.oOo.

Bilbo’s first impression of her was that the girl was in a very poorly state. 

She seemed starved and cold, her pack hung limply on her back, as though it were near empty. She was obviously ill prepared to spend any amount of time in the wilds, even though the poorly rolled up sleeping roll tied to the bottom of the pack indicated she had. 

Another thing was that Bilbo couldn’t, for the life of him, figure out what she was. She was just taller than him, standing a little taller than three and a half feet, and like a hobbit she wore no shoes, but her feet were very different. They were tiny and only had the barest amount of light hairs on top. Her ears were just gently pointed, but not anywhere near an elf’s, or a hobbit’s, but they were too pointy to be a dwarf’s. She also didn’t have a beard and her hair was just past her chin and straight. 

She was certainly an oddity. 

But never mind that, the girl was still improperly dressed and was nodding off in her chair, having finished eating her meal savagely. 

He gestured for the girl to follow. 

“Come on, I will fetch you some clothes to wear and show you where you can sleep.” 

Despite knowing that she couldn’t understand him, Bilbo still thought it proper to state his intentions. He was surprised when she drifted behind him tiredly with no protest—did she care not for her personal safety? He still had some of his mother’s clothes that he hadn’t gotten around to donating yet that might fit the lass. 

He dug through the wardrobe in one of his dressing rooms, trying to find a proper sleeping gown, and yes, he had rooms dedicated for the storage of clothing, he had a rather large smial and nothing else to fill it. It wasn’t as though he had any close family. He let out a triumphant noise as he unearthed a silk nightgown and a lounge robe for the girl. He held it out to her and she took it, setting it aside on a nearby bench before throwing her dress off, much to the duress of Bilbo. 

He shielded his gaze from her form. It was highly inappropriate for a young lass to bare herself in front of another like this. She, however, didn’t seem to care. 

When she finished dressing she called his name again, signalling for him to turn back around. 

“I suppose I should show you to your room for the night now.” He once again gestured for her to follow and follow she did, holding nothing but her near-empty pack in both of her hands. 

He led her to a guest room and closed the door behind her before heading back to the main rooms occupied by a band of dwarves. 

.oOo.

She had been left alone in the room Bilbo had shown her to, feeling the soft skirts blowing against her legs. 

Usually she didn’t sleep with clothes on, but the silk of the dressing robe and the nightgown reminded her of the cold winter nights where she would snuggle close to her mom when they were significantly poorer and the family had all crammed into one room and made do. Her mother had adored vintage nightgowns from thrift stores and always wore them to bed. 

The room she was in now was comfortable. A small fire was lit in the hearth and cast the room in a quiet orange glow. 

She knew not if this was permanent, or what the morning would bring—but she was so exhausted she could hardly care about anything other than the heaviness of her eyelids. 

The quilt on the bed was soft and thick, perfect for the cold spring night. The bed sheets and pillows smelled of cloves and she buried her face in the material. She snuggled deeper into the bedding, wrapping herself in the spicy scents as she drifted off to sleep, too tired to consider her unique situation. 

She hadn’t even talked about the quest to the dwarves who were leaving in the morning. 

.oOo.

The next day, she rose quite early. She had been conditioned to rise early and now had trouble sleeping in, even when assured she had absolutely nothing to do the next day. 

So it was, the girl got up, mourning the loss of the warm quilts. She had not dreamed that night, which was an odd occurrence considering she had vivid and often disturbing dreams at night. She quickly made the bed and took to the kitchen with her pack in tow. 

Only a couple of dwarves were awake, Bombur and Nori. 

“ _ There’s the lass, how’s yer night? _ ” She didn’t understand what he said, par for the course. Though she still hadn’t introduced herself to the two dwarves, whose names she already knew. She bowed her head and held her hands up to show she meant no harm.

She got a raised eyebrow from the thief, but she had expected that. The two seemed shocked at the display and she sat quietly down, confused, hoping she had not offended them in any way. 

Right about now she wished she had a toothbrush. Her breath must be terrible, it tasted horrid. She at least hoped to get some salt water to rinse her mouth out with. She sat still for a couple more minutes, debating whether or not she should just get up and dig around in someone else’s house, but the now five dwarves in front of her seemed to not need an invitation. 

Still nervous, she set about her task, trying to find salt and water. 

Water was easy to find, and a cup was not too hard. Salt on the other hand, was harder. Did people in Middle Earth even have salt? Yes, she remembers Samwise Gamgee nearly dying on the cliff face by Mordor over a small box of “special” salt, so it was a sure thing. Bilbo must have some if he is as rich as everything is pointing to him being. 

Finally, hidden in the pantry was a medium sized box of salt crystals. She took her cup and put a couple teaspoons worth in and went about heating water. 

The dwarves were watching her oddly as she went about mixing the two ingredients. She took a swig and grimaced at the taste as she swished it about and looked for a place to spit it out. 

Now all the dwarves were in the kitchen watching her look frantically for a place to spit. Finally she gave up and went to the open window where she spit the water out in a spray over the flowers. She looked up and saw the dwarves and smiled nervously, embarrassed with the situation. Ori, Fili, and Kili were all examining the cup that lay mostly full. She took another swig, and rather than swishing she gargled, alarming some of the dwarves. She laughed as she spit it out. 

“Try some, it will be funny.” She pointed to the cup and then to Ori motioning for him to try it. 

The look on his face was priceless as the salty water hit his tongue. He immediately ran to the window and spit it out. She laughed harder. Then Fili and Kili tried it. 

“ _ That is the most vile thing I’ve tasted! _ ” Ori announced. 

“ _ What is it? _ ”

“ _ It’s not poison is it? Because if it is, I will have her head. _ ”

“ _ Relax,  _ Dwalin, Dori,  _ it’s salt water, though why she made it only to hold in her mouth is beyond me. Maybe it’s a ritual from her homeland, wherever that may be. _ ” Fili said, a smile proud on his face, he looked at her and his grin grew. She smiled back and stuck out her tongue. 

There was still a little bit in the cup and she decided to just drink the rest of it. Certainly there was more bacteria in the back of her throat that it could kill. 

.oOo.

The joyful scene in the kitchen quickly disappeared with the appearance of Thorin and Gandalf. 

Oh right, they weren’t just here to torment poor Bilbo and watch her drink salt water, they were actually purposeful in their visit. The quest. To Erebor, to the gold-sickness, to the dragon, to death.

She didn’t want Thorin, Fili, and Kili to die! She hated thinking about it, and had always cut the last movie short during the marathons, never able to stomach a reality where three of her favorite characters died in a bitter ending that left her in tears, cursing Tolkien for making her love them. 

No, she needed to stop their deaths. She had hiked before, definitely went camping more than once, gotten lost in the woods and wandered aimlessly in the dark for hours on end before rescue—so she had the experience. She had explored every single outcome of the journey through fan fiction and fan theories—some she even had written herself—and while the physical date of things was shaky, she knew exactly what order the main events happened. Luckily enough everything was pointing to this being movie-verse, and she had watched the movies a few days before her ‘trip’ during one of her rare free days.

They needed her on this quest, just as much as she needed them. She might not be able to go home ever, with her being most likely dead, but she sure as hell could make sure these dwarves get their home back and live to enjoy it. 

She pointed at Thorin and Balin before walking to the study. 

They followed with no small amount of suspicion, the wizard following them. When they reached the study she had another thought. They would have no way of knowing her warnings. They couldn’t understand her. She would try her hardest, but they would always be suspicious. She groaned in frustration and tried to find a way to convey to the three that she needed to sign the contract. 

“Damn it! The contract. Paper, writing, a weird flap that details death by CGI dragon played by Benedict Cumberbatch and enunciated further by my dear friend Bofur.” They grew closer at the mention of Bofur, but she nearly cried out in anger. She looked around, certainly there was something in Bilbo’s ring-forsaken study that could help her. “Papel! Papel!” She cried in spanish as a last resort. 

A piece of paper tucked away between pages of a left out book, a sealed jar of ink, a sharpened quill. She was certainly glad of Bilbo’s bookish ways. She grabbed the materials for her silent audience and pantomimed signing something before pointing to Balin. 

“ _ We don’t have time for this, we need to be leaving soon if we are to make it to  _ Bree _ at a reasonable pace. _ ”

“ _ I think she is trying to sign something. Though what it is is a mystery to me. _ ”

“ _ I think I know what the young lady is trying to express.  _ Balin _ , the blank contract, if you please? _ ”

“ _ I don’t know what the contract has to do with anything, but very well. _ ”

Balin finally removed the contract from somewhere in his coat and she nearly cheered out in victory. Yes! Finally, they were getting somewhere. 

Gandalf looked at her, eyebrow quirked up. 

“ _ Am I right to assume you intend to sign the contract? _ ” At her blank expression, Gandalf tried again. “ _ Contract? _ ”

Contract! Yes! She nodded firmly before repeating the foreign word, sounding weird on her tongue. Gandalf looked back at the glaring dwarf king and his advisor. 

“ _ I believe she intends to join the company. _ ” 

“ _ Well, I do not intend to let her. She poses not only a danger to us, but herself as well. I doubt her intentions are good, and her knowledge of the quest itself poses a threat. She will not join us. _ ”

“ _ Well then, you will have to be the one to explain that to her. _ ”

Thorin glared harder at the wizard before turning his gaze back to her. The contract was tucked back away in Balin’s coat. Clearly they didn’t want her to join. 

Thorin and Balin got up, the king holding a halting hand out towards her before turning around and walking out of the study, quite final in his dismissal. She looked back towards Gandalf, devastated. 

“ _ I’m sorry, my dear, but I find his reasoning appropriate, even if you don’t appear to pose a danger, and are incredibly interesting _ .”

Hot, angry tears pricked at her eyes and she screwed up her face, determined not to cry for some reason. She may not have understood his words, but his tone of voice said it all.

“You son of a Bitch! Of course you would side with them! You foolish bastard of a man!”

The dwarves left, Gandalf in tow, and a contract was set on the mantle for Bilbo to sign. 

She walked over and grabbed the contract. She had no clue what to sign. This was going to be her new name now, and she wanted it to be a good one. 

She didn’t feel it appropriate to use her old name. It didn’t fit in, and she was already trying her hardest to not seem as though the circumstances for which she had been at Bag End were odd. 

So she thought up a new name and signed on the line at the bottom. Unused to holding a quill, her hands shook trying to maintain level pressure. She was unsure of how to write the name, never having signed or written it before. Many times the loops of the ‘s’s wanted to turn into different letters, morph into a different word all together. When she finished, many parts of the signature looked more akin to rorschach inkblots than actual letters, but it would have to do.

The foreign signature was small enough to leave enough room for Bilbo’s fanciful script. 

.oOo.

She waited patiently, sipping on sweetened tea in the kitchen as Bilbo woke up in the next room. 

She tried to stifle her laughter as he stumbled into the kitchen and jumped at her presence. She figured he wouldn’t have thought anybody had been here last night with how nicely the dwarves had cleaned up. The young lady sipped politely at her tea, finishing the cup as the Hobbit gathered his wits. 

“ _ So it wasn’t a dream. I suppose they left you behind, didn’t they? I can’t imagine they would have left you here by accident. _ ” She huffed, angry at the lack of understanding. Bilbo sighed. 

“ _ Sorry, I quite forgot our predicament. _ ” His tone was apologetic, and assuming correctly that he had apologized she waved him off before gesturing towards the nightgown she was still draped in. 

“Clothes?” 

“Clothes,” the Hobbit repeated. He tugged on his own shirt “ _ Clothes _ .” 

Now she knew precisely five words in their language. Yes. No. Food. Contract. Clothes. She supposed they were helpful words for their circumstance. 

“ _ I suppose you are right, you can’t walk around in your nightgown, in fact I loathe the fact that you had been so inappropriately dressed around company. _ ” 

“Clothes?” 

“Clothes.”

.oOo.

Now dressed in some rather dashing high-waisted brown cotton trousers, a loose fitting white shirt, and rather nice suspenders, she felt actually ready to follow the dwarves. 

She held the contract out to Bilbo and pointed out the door. 

“Go,” she said, trying to convince him. He repeated the motion. 

“ _ Go? _ ” Another word to add to her small dictionary. She sort of wished she had a notebook to jot down her new words so she wouldn’t forget them. 

“Yes. Go. Bilbo go, Cassandra go.”

“No.” Bilbo said, shoving the hand gripping the contract. “ _ I can’t just go and follow the  _ dwarves _ without any by your leave. I have responsibilities to tend to. People depend on me. _ Bilbo no go, Cassandra go.” She felt her face scrunch up and her nose twitch. 

“Bilbo no go, Cassandra no go.” 

“Bilbo no go, Cassandra go.” 

Frustrated, she threw the contract on the floor.    
“Bilbo! Come on man! Stop dawdling! We need to catch up with the dwarves, with the Anfangrim, we’re running behind as it is. I know it’s hard leaving everything you’ve ever known behind. Believe me, I would know better than most. However, we need to go. Write some letters, leave Bag-End to Drogo, or Hamfast. Someone reliable, we can’t have Lobelia Sackville-Baggins get Bag-End, she doesn’t deserve it. No Lobelia, yes Hamfast and Drogo, Capiche?” 

Bilbo had paused in his pacing to stare at Cassandra as she ranted. He likely heard the names of his friends and family, along with Bag-End. 

“ _ Are you really telling me to leave  _ Bag-End  _ to  _ Drogo?” She nodded. Yes. Bag-End, Drogo. “ _ I suppose that isn’t the worst of plans. In fact, it’s very well thought out.  _ Drogo _ is betrothed after all, and I’ve always been rather fond of him and  _ Primula.” He walked absentmindedly into the study, grabbing the blank parchment she had used hours earlier to explain her words. 

He started penning a letter. “Yes,  _ this should do quite nicely, thank you for suggesting it. _ ” 

He walked outside and dropped the sealed letter into the mailbox and returned inside, signing the contract without a second thought. She was waiting for the ball to drop and for him to realize what he had just done. 

“ _ Wait a minute, what did I just do? I haven’t been on an adventure since before mother died! I hardly have the supplies! _ ” 

She walked around the house, following behind the distressed Hobbit as he hurriedly threw things into an old pack. 

.oOo.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sindarin:  
> Mellon: friend. Mae Govannen. Elen síla lúmenn' omentielvo: Hello, A star shines upon our meeting. Novaer: Goodbye. Annon Allon: thank you. Vanamelda: Beautiful elf. Ada: father. Anfangrim: Long beard dwarves. Cened: sight/seeing. 
> 
> Khuzdul:  
> Durinultarg: Durin's beard. Amrâlimê: My gem. Mizimith: my treasure. Adad: dad. Amad: mom. Nadad: brother. Fasl: cock. Du Bekar: to arms. Shazara: silence.


	4. Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Day two of her new life in Middle Earth and so far she has managed to trick Bilbo into letting her join him. 
> 
> But that was just one challenge out of the way, now there were several others in front of her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey everyone! I have had quite the week last week. Late nights and exhausted mornings. Not a lot of sleep overall. I hadn't realized that I had enrolled in a 16 credit-hour semester, and now Im facing the consequences. But I guess I'll have to suck it up because I can't withdraw from classes without my financial aid being messed up. 
> 
> Anyway, thank you guys for your comments on the last chapter! I truly appreciate each and every one of you. I go through and re-read comments all the time so it really means a lot to me. 
> 
> I'm glad you're reading this and I hope you enjoy the chapter!!

Loathe as she was to admit it, the contents of her pack were sorely lacking. 

As far as camping supplies went, she had only her brother’s old cloth sleeping bag, and though it was well insulated and wouldn’t seem strange compared to the almost primitive bed-rolls of the dwarves, it still wasn’t enough for a cross country march into danger. 

She needed camping supplies and very much wished she had more thoroughly raided her brother’s closet. 

Now she was running along behind Bilbo, hearing the dim tinkling of the tin box and the rattling of the pills in her pack as they tried to catch up with the dwarves who were travelling via pony. 

Her lungs burned as Bilbo ran ahead of her. Damn. She really wasn’t a runner. She wished she had something to pin her hair back, and cursed her mom for planting the idea of short hair in her head. Long hair was easier to keep up in a tidy braid, whereas short hair, and especially unruly straight hair like hers, was a great challenge to keep up without no less than 30 bobby pins. 

Nonetheless, she trailed along, panting as she went, until she heard Bilbo calling to the dwarves, and though she could not understand his words, she knew word for word what he had been saying. 

It was then, when she finally got a hold of her breath, that her dizzied mind realized her true error. She hadn’t a coat. Only the thin shirt on her back gracefully given to her by Bilbo could keep her warm. She sighed pitifully before taking a deep breath and marching up to where Balin was eyeing the signatures. 

“ _ Why is her name on here, Lad? _ ” 

“ _ Beg your pardon? _ ”

“ _ Well, we specifically barred her from signing the  _ contract _ and joining, too dangerous. We know nothing about her, she could possibly be a spy. _ ”

“ _ I thought she had been left behind to convince me to join, which she did by the way. If she were truly dangerous, why would she want me on the quest? _ ”

“ _ Another target mayhaps? _ ”

“ _ I think that’s just preposterous. She doesn’t have anything to her name! Even the  _ clothes _ on her back are mine. _ ”

“ _ Be that as it may, she is still not coming. _ ”

“ _ She signed the damn thing, didn’t she? I say we let her come. _ ”

“ _ As do I. She could be a greater asset to us than we could ever imagine. However, we would never know if we were to leave her in the Shire. _ ”

“ _ Very well. The girl follows along, but she is to march in the middle where everyone can watch her, but only until she proves distrustful; at which point we will leave her behind. _ ”

“ _ Very well, thank you. _ ”

“Bofur _ ,  _ Bifur _ , get her and Mr.  _ Baggins _ a pony. _ ” __

“ _ Oh no thank you, I don’t ride. I’m perfectly fine walking- _ ”

“ _ Nonsense, _ ”

“ _ You think we are just going to walk? _ ”

“ _ All the way to  _ Erebor _? _ ”

“ _ You’re funnier than I thought Mr.  _ Boggins _. _ ”

It wasn’t until a chestnut pony was presented to her did she know the status of her membership. 

She smiled widely and jumped onto the pony with little hesitation, eager to get on the road and closer to the goal of saving the Durins. She caught the eye of Fili and smiled wider, her stomach fluttering at the gaze of the pretty man. She could see something developing there, but considering her current status as “undesirable no.1” she felt it necessary to establish herself as a trustworthy ally with their best interests at heart rather than a charlatan out to steal the heart of a prince. Don’t get her wrong though, if the situation was less dire she would happily devour the hearts of handsome princes. 

Coins were tossed around as the betting pool was cashed out. Bilbo joined and Dwalin lost a bit of money, while Gandalf earned some. 

.oOo.

The rest of the day was quiet in the sense that no one addressed her. 

Sure nobody could  _ actually _ talk to her, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t at least  _ try _ . As evidenced by her earlier conversation with Bilbo, she was quite capable of learning new words. 

In fact, at one point she dug out her tin of pencils and her sketchbook and dedicated a page to write the new words. She had seen the curious gaze of Bilbo and Ori out of the corner of her eye, but Ori was held back by Dori, and Bilbo stuck firmly to the familiar stranger that was Gandalf the Grey. 

So she sighed and put the sketchbook and pencils away before grabbing one of her two books and resigned herself to the same two stories as she lived out a story itself. 

The next time she looked up from her book it was to not only distrustful stares, but also the sight of the tree with the large roots that had hidden Frodo, Sam, Merry, and Pippin from the ring wraith. 

It was an oddly sobering experience. 

The thought that a scene had been imprinted in her mind at a young age and involved a scene that had not presently happened yet was a frightening one. And if she could help it, she would make sure that the scene that had scared her so much as a little girl would never come to pass. Frodo would never be forced in a situation like that, be tempted and ruined by the mark of an angry and vengeful god and his maiar. 

She knew the east road from mainly its landmarks. It wasn’t shown in great detail in the Hobbit movies, in fact it had been skipped over quite neatly after Bilbo was forced onto a pony. And the quick, panicked scenes from the ring-wraith chase through the Shire certainly didn’t show the entire length of the road in great detail. 

In fact the sight of Buckleberry Ferry was quite jarring with the amount of people crowding onto the wooden craft. An old hobbit manned the barge and was suspicious, rightly so, at the sight of the dwarves, Bilbo, Gandalf, and herself. However, he took them across to the dock near Bree for free, pulling Bilbo aside and having a quiet conversation with his fellow hobbit—none of which she understood. 

The language barrier was very frustrating, and isolating and she could remember a time when she had travelled with a friend and her family and her company had spent the entire time talking in a different language. 

She could only hope that she would grow closer to not only the language, but her companions as well. 

.oOo.

It was nearing dusk when the company arrived at the gates of Bree. 

The old man that had interrogated Frodo and then was crushed by the weight of undead horses was standing in front of them—quite young and lively, though no more jovial… in fact he was still just as crabby as he had been in the first film. 

The smell and over-all griminess of the town was a new thing to her. Dirty men, women, and children glared from their posts. She had even seen a few grim hobbits amongst the people, but ignored the crowd in favor of looking at the disparaging looks being thrown her way by members of her own company. No doubt they thought that she would try and reveal their motives here. But she couldn’t talk to anybody, so what’s the point in treating her suspiciously? 

They made their way on foot to the prancing pony, the horses having been gathered by Dori, Gloin, and Bombur to be put up in the stables. Her bare feet squelched pleasantly in the mud, and not so pleasantly in a pile of horse manure. She looked over just in time to see Bilbo step in the same pile. Needless to say, it was disgusting. 

_ “What are we going to do about the girl for the night? _ ” Thorin asked Gandalf outside of the inn before they all went inside. 

“ _ She can room with me if you are unwilling to rent another. _ ”

“ _ Very well, if she proves dangerous during the night I trust you can make the right decision _ .”

“Yes, yes _. I understand, though I see  _ no _ need for the extra security _ .”

Thorin glared at the wizard before leading them inside. 

She was glad to be getting inside as once more the sun was setting and the chill of the night was rolling in. 

Inside, the air was thick and heavy with the cloying scent of the patrons and the dung-fueled fire on the far wall. Grimy men sneered at her and the company, eyeing her up and down in a way that sent shivers down her spine in fear and disgust. 

She stuck close to Gandalf’s side and practically glued herself to his robes. If she was taken by one of these grimy men, the others had no reason to rescue her or go after her. The thought frightened her and she had to gather herself before she did something embarrassing like bury her face in Gandalf’s robes like a frightened child. She was twenty two years old dammit! She could handle things better than this. 

She listened to the conversations around her, despite not knowing anything anybody has said. 

“ _ So, anyway, that's when I told him ‘Ye can’t put it in that basket, It’s already dirty!’ and the lad looked at us and put the shirt in the damn basket anyway. Had to wear it home covered in coal dust. I told him ‘that’s what ye get fer not listenin’ to yer elders!’ the lads and I had a good chuckle at the look on his face. _ ” Bofur’s rough speech was a comfort, and she could only try to attempt to figure out what he was saying. 

She wished the dwarves were more amicable towards her, then she would feel safer. 

She caught Bilbo with the corner of her eye. 

“Bilbo, food? Who am I staying with? Or am I staying with the pigs. I wouldn’t put it past Thorin… So… this is the only word I know in y’all’s language, and I’m gonna say it again. But also I’m going to keep talking because it’s the first time in several hours anyone has talked to me. Food?”

“Food!  _ That is a brilliant idea. I too am quite famished, after all we did miss first breakfast, elevenses, luncheon, afternoon tea, and dear me, we’ve quite forgotten all about dinner as well. Just as well, I suppose. I don’t think the dwarves know about how much a Hobbit eats. I’m going to have to ration during this trip if we are to save face… and money. _ ” 

Bilbo talked almost as long as she did, and even though she couldn’t understand him, she had the feeling he was ranting about the seven hobbit meals. She held out her hand to the ranting Hobbit, accepting his before patting it gently. 

“Yes, food, Bilbo?”

“ _ Oh right, I should ask Gandalf, he seems to have our best interests at heart...even if the dwarves don’t. _ ” The last part was whispered to her, but the effort was wasted.

She let the words of the others wash over her as she worried at Gandalf’s grey robes and stared at the stained wood of the floor. It seemed as though all of the pent up energy contained within her being was drained and she could no longer lift her head. So it was, she lost track of how long she was standing there before Gandalf gathered her and led her to a high chair at a high table.

.oOo.

The inn was noisy and certainly smelled unpleasant. Though the promise of a bed and a warm—if not gross—meal was making up for it. Bilbo’s allergies had kicked up rather fiercely around mid-afternoon and he was glad he had the foresight to grab his handkerchief. It would have been all too embarrassing if he had to stop the procession in order to turn around for the monogrammed piece of cloth designated for his running nose. 

But beyond that, the day passed all too quickly. It felt surreal, and he could barely process the fact that this was his life now. Everything had changed, even if he was to turn around right now and march all the way to the Shire, his life would no doubt be altered. 

He had quietly watched the girl clutching on to Gandalf’s robes tiredly whilst he chatted with Bofur and Nori. 

He knew not where the girl hailed from, nor what language she spoke, nor her age—in fact, he knew nothing about her or her intentions. He still had no clue how far she would go—or be allowed to go. Bilbo figured if she really was a threat Gandalf or Thorin, or Dwalin perhaps would take care of it.

When the food was ready, he took his place at the table and couldn’t help the way his stomach grumbled at the sight of a chicken leg. From the corner of his eye he could still see the girl once more eating her food with her hands—though she endeavored to make use of her silverware as well, using both her hand and the dirty fork to shovel food in her mouth, hissing when some of the food burned her fingertips. It was unsightly, and Bilbo endeavored to angle himself away from her. Her method of eating was also being watched by the dwarves and several of the men with their pints. She cleaned off her hands when she was done and dozed off while everyone else finished up. 

It seemed that the dwarves were determined to drink as much as they pleased. Though Bilbo couldn’t blame them. If they really were about to be in the wild for months, they might as well partake in such a delicacy as ale on their last night in civilization. In fact, just thinking about it got him standing up and ordering himself a pint. They only served half-pints at the Green Dragon, and it was always a treat hearing various Tookish cousins rant about the tall folk and their pint glasses. Many dwarves laughed at the sight of him carrying a mug full of ale that was the size of his head.

By the time the company had left the main room, only a couple of patrons were lingering. The girl had been woken up and herded upstairs by Gandalf sometime during the evening, but Bilbo was gone in his cups by the time that happened. 

In his current state, he could hardly be blamed when instead of his room and his bed that he stumbled into, it was Dwalin’s. Dwalin was already occupying his own bed and had grumbled when the Hobbit crawled in next to him, but the dwarf already lost himself to sleep and drunkenness, and did not protest as much as one would have thought. 

.oOo.

She was sitting in a green field on a red and white checkered blanket, like in the movies, with a basket next to her. 

She did not think to question how she got here, after all this isn’t the first time it's happened. 

A song played through the air, classical… hmm… Vivaldi? Chopin? She didn’t know. 

She felt as though someone should be here, something—someone was missing. Suddenly she was frantic. What was it? What was she missing? A hole made an appearance in her chest and she felt as though she were sinking. 

Finally, she opened the closed picnic basket and fell back in shock. 

Severed hands, more than could logically fit in the basket. All pointed accusingly at her. The music changed—stopped all together, and was replaced with the cries of angry people. She couldn’t understand what they were saying. 

She turned around in an attempt to shield herself from the accusing hands, and came face to face with none other than Thorin, Fili, and Kili. Their final wounds bleeding profusely as they stood there watching her with thinly veiled contempt. 

No longer was she in a pleasant valley, but a snowy battlefield.

“You know, you were put here to save us…” Fili started, and she was shocked to be able to understand what he said. “Instead, you made everything worse.” She blinked and more of the company appeared. Dwalin, Bofur, Ori, Bilbo, all covered in fatal wounds. 

“We died because of you, for you.” 

“You killed us!” They all cried in unison, their hands pointing at her like the hands in the basket. 

Then, she felt… things—the hands, grabbing her wrists and ankles, winding around her neck and pulling her backwards until she was dragged to the basket and shoved inside, where she fell into the pits of darkness. 

When the darkness turned to light, after a few long minutes, she recognized the city of Bree around her. The dream seemed more real than before, the rocks in the dirt path digging into the bare flesh of her feet. 

What was she doing here?

She walked along the market stalls. The carts and shops were empty, and items and goods were strewn about. 

A particularly beautiful necklace caught her eye. 

The chain was darkened with age, oxidized to the point where it would probably leave a mark on her skin if worn for a prolonged period of time. But what really caught her eye was the pendant. Fashioned with what appeared to be a ruby gemstone inlaid in bronze, it looked like an eye. Short lengths of chain hung down from the pendant and they looked like eyelashes. 

She grabbed the necklace, caught in a spell and unable to look away. 

And just like before, she felt something grab her wrist, but instead of dragging her, it squeezed. Her joints creaked and her bones screamed as more and more pressure was applied. She felt a hot breath on her ear and the left side of her face.

“Let… Go!” 

.oOo.

She woke up with a start, a shout on her lips. 

Then, she was sitting up and covered in sweat, but that didn’t concern her. Gandalf, who was sitting in the corner and puffing away at his pipe had spoken. His wizened face was gently illuminated by the flickering of a nearby oil lamp. However much she wished to hear his comforting words, she could neither understand him, nor focus on him. 

She buried her face in the stale and musty linens—so different from those at Bilbo’s, and tried to breathe deeply and calm down. 

“ _ My dear girl, what is it, what is wrong? _ ”

“Gandalf…” she croaked. “I killed them! I came here for some reason, and I want to fix it. I don’t want them to die, but I will just end up killing them!” She sobbed. 

The wizard puffed on his pipe for a moment, still not able to understand her. 

“ _ I’m sure you just had a bad dream, my dear girl, it happens to the best of us. Even I am not immune to the occasional night terror. _ ” the man stood up and patted her on the head. “ _ Go back to sleep, I will keep watch. _ ”

He gestured for her to go back to sleep, but she couldn’t, her heart was still racing and adrenaline rushed through her veins. She needed to check on the dwarves and Bilbo to make sure they were okay. 

She tugged at Gandalf’s sleeve and slumped off the bed, leading the taller man to the door and around the story they were on, quietly opening the doors the dwarves had disappeared into and peeking in at the snoring beings comfortable snoozing in their beds. 

She did not miss the fact that Dwalin and Bilbo were cuddled very close together. 

With her fears assuaged, she returned back to their room with an endlessly patient Gandalf in tow. 

“ _ Rest easy, dear girl, we have a lot of adventuring to do tomorrow. _ ”

.oOo.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So what did you think? The last part of the chapter seems a little confusing, but without revealing too much, Cassandra was put there for a reason, and so her dreams are reflecting that. More information will come in later chapters. 
> 
> If anything seems confusing or unclear, please let me know! All my stuff is unbeta'd as I write and edit everything myself and that leaves a lot of room for error. If you spot any errors let me know and I will fix them. 
> 
> Thank you for reading!


	5. Paths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before her departure from Ye Olde Bree-town, Cassandra encounters trouble. Afterwards, she feels an all-encompassing sense of loneliness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You wanted Angst, well here it is folks. From this point on the story gets a little more serious. Bree kind of marks the end of civilization until Rivendell, and it isn't ever gone over in the movies. Again, I don't want to seem repetitive so I haven't really borrowed lines from the movie--that being said, there are a couple lines but I hope it doesn't sound overdone or obvious. 
> 
> Thanks to everybody who commented on the last chapter! You can't imagine how much I look forward to posting just to hear feedback. To everybody that has kudosed and bookmarked, I love you to the moon and back ;8)

The next morning, she rose with the sun. 

After her  _ nightmare _ and subsequent dwarf-check, she had gone back to sleep with no trouble and arose well-rested, if not uneasy.

She wandered about outside, wondering briefly where it was that Gandalf disappeared to, but not thinking anything of it. None of the other dwarves seemed to be awake, or about. 

The morning air was still chilly and her flesh prickled in the dewy air. The precipitation caused her hair to poof up, and waves of shivers wracked her body. This was her chance to get some of the things she needed for the journey. If Bree was this cold in the morning, and they were still in the mild-weathered Eriador, then she would never survive the trek through the misty mountains and even so far as Lake-town. 

The market was opening and the bustle of other early risers met her. Perfect. 

Crime should be done when it is busy and she can easily blend in to the crowd. One should never steal when there isn’t some sort of distraction or chaos. Additionally, if possible, one should buy a small thing along with their concealed prizes to throw suspicion off of themselves. That was the rule she had established in her last life anyway. 

But now the rules are different. She wouldn’t face a lawsuit, just… hmm… what would the consequence be? Jail time? Assault? Losing her hand? Death? 

It would be better to just not get caught. Maybe she would ask Nori later what the punishments for stealing are. 

She drifted into the small crowd, weaving in between hooded men and dirty mothers, through beggar children and the decrepit elderly. The people here were poor and it showed, though there must be  _ someone  _ getting all the revenue as this was a travellers town, where many bought and traded and sold products. 

She wasn’t stealing from the people, just the wealthier merchants. 

An innocuous and naive expression made its way on her face as she went from stall to stall, as if looking for something in particular. She needed a coat, a pair of boots, and a knife. 

The knife was the easiest to find, which says something about the area she was in. The object had been strewn about a workbench on display with many others like it. The craftsmanship was shoddy at best, but it would do in a pinch. It was swiped with relative ease and she drifted carefully away, making sure to maintain her innocent facade. 

The coat was the next thing she found. 

It looked fit for a child and made of dark red fabric. It boasted two front pockets and three little wooden buttons. The red was so dark it looked brown in some lights, and she was glad for it. Red pigment was cheap and easy to make, but the richer dyes would stand out in the wilds where she was to be travelling. She tucked it gently between her back and her bag and strolled away before looping back and grabbing a dark brown cloak that would easily conceal her figure. Maybe the elves would give her one of the green cloaks the Hobbits boasted on their journey to Mordor. 

Now, the boots. 

This was a delicate matter as she couldn’t walk around with too big or too little boots. They were, after all, going to lose their horses soon and walking from Rivendell to Erebor with blistered feet is her worst nightmare. 

This was going to be a challenge. But, she was smart, she’d made it this far. 

What was one of the rules? Distractions were key. She could use this. 

She wandered over to the cobbler, waving aside a couple of street kids to the alley next to it. They followed her easily, she looked like a little girl to an average human, how could they not? They wouldn’t be able to understand her, but she can work through it. 

“Hello,” she greeted, waving to the two boys in front of her. She pointed to them and made a humming sound before humming questioningly. 

The little boys easily got what she meant and introduced themselves as Byram and Crispin.

“Me, Byram, Crispin go… Boots? shoes? Feet? How do you say ‘foot covering’ in Westron?” 

She finally scrunched her face up in defeat and pointed to first her bare feet and then the building where the cobbler resided. 

“ _ I think she’s asking for boots?” _

“ _ Boots. _ ” The two repeated several times, pointing to their own bedraggled shoes. 

“Yes! Boots! Me, Byram, Crispin, go boots.”

“ _ I think she wants us to get her  _ boots _. _ ”

“ _ Or she is hatching a scheme to get… free  _ boots _! _ ”

“ _ I need a new pair! _ ”

“ _ Me too! _ ”

They both looked at her expectantly, they were on board. What preceded in the next five minutes was a mimed demonstration of what roles they were to play whilst she tried on and ran off with three new pairs of boots. 

Their plan went of without a hitch and she left that part of the market with several more valuable supplies

It wasn’t until she was walking back that a small glint appeared at the edge of her periphery. She turned her head, confused, and halted in her stride. 

The object in question was the exact same necklace from her dream last night. The intricate etchings in the metal, and the delicate clasps that joined the hanging eyelashes from the ruby’s inlay. It had been gorgeous in her dream, but in reality, it was breathtaking. 

She was knocked from her observation by a grimy and grumpy man—who quite literally shoved her out of his way. This was a sign that she should get closer. Still reeling from her dream last night, and the subsequent deja vu, she had forgotten the last part of the dream before she woke up. 

She stepped cautiously closer to the stall and stood upon her covered toes to get a better look. The distance had not done it justice, and she felt trapped in a spell, enamored by an enchantment. She  _ needed  _ this necklace like she needed air to breath and water to drink. It was hers!

She blinked and its weight was in her palm, deceptively light for the level of ornamentation. It was about the size of her hand and would hang below her chest when worn. Though before she could walk off with her prized possession, she felt a large hand grab her wrist. The scene from her nightmare played before her eyes, leaving her stunned and confused. Her free hand clutched desperately at the necklace, feeling the unfinished edges of the pendant biting into her palm. 

Her captured wrist was squeezed and she could feel her joints creak and groan and pop at the treatment. She wasn’t able to wrap her head around what was happening, or why she had been grabbed. 

The next thing she had felt was a hot, heavy breath tickling the hairs on her ear and making her skin prickle with discomfort. A putrid stench reached her nose and her face twisted in disgust. And, in the exact tone of her dream, a deep voice commanded her to let go. 

Frozen in terror, her heart was beating like that of a rabbit’s. Her hand felt stuck, physically unable to release the necklace from her clutches. 

Caught and terrified as she was, she did not hear the sound of a rescuers voice, only the release of her wrist. 

“ _ Are you alright? _ ”

.oOo.

Fili prided himself in his ability to keep level-headed in difficult situations. 

When one of the mines back in the blue mountains had collapsed and halted a large stream of their gross income, he had worked tirelessly with his mother and uncle to help solve the problem. 

When Kili had been bullied for his fairer traits, he hadn’t immediately flown into a rage, no. He watched and waited for his revenge, and laughed along with his little brother as the meaner children walked around with beet-root dyed hair, safe from being caught by the adults. 

This was a trait that he had carefully cultivated, knowing how useful it was to not only his people, but beneficial to himself as well. 

So, when he walked through the market that morning, he had kept a level head when he spotted the strange and undoubtedly foreign girl that had tagged along with the company. 

He knew to stand back and watch her, examine the decisions she made to try and figure out her intentions regarding their travels. His uncle hadn’t outright asked him to do so, but he had heavily encouraged any attempts on Fili’s part. So he did what any good nephew and heir would do, he followed orders and watched as the girl and two local children worked together to steal three pairs of boots from the town cobbler. 

The playful distraction brought a smile to his lips that he had to make an effort to temper. The simple tricks had reminded him much of his upbringing in Ered Luin. The girl appeared to be not all that bad. Maybe her reasons for coming were much simpler than his uncle was making them out to be. 

This thought carried him through the rest of the market with hope that their journey wasn’t being destroyed from the inside out. However, his thoughts made him lose track of his surroundings and he quickly lost sight of the girl. 

The market was becoming more and more busy as the minutes passed and by the time he next spotted her, he was fighting his way through the tall folk. 

However, she didn’t look right. Her eyes were vacant and her body was stiff, as if frozen in danger. Then, a rather disgusting man ran into her, knocking the girl over as he continued on. Fili let out a sigh of relief as it seemed she was freed from whatever trance she had been in. 

Though her next move was to step closer to the direction she had been staring. He followed her line of sight to an odd looking necklace on display. The girl grabbed it, and once more her eyes were vacant. 

A stone dropped in his stomach and he stepped forward without notice, perhaps in an attempt to throw her from whatever trance she was in. Too late, he saw the merchant that manned the stall take notice of her and command her to drop the jewelry. She showed no signs of understanding, and Fili remembered somewhere in the back of his mind that she didn’t speak their language. 

The merchant was growing agitated and Fili shoved his way through the crowds urgently, speeding up in an attempt to save the girl from an angry man. 

He was mere feet away when the man grabbed the girl’s wrist and leaned in, whispering something to the girl that she clearly recognized, if the widening of her watery eyes was any indication. 

Finally, Fili made it to the stand and stepped up to the girl and the disgusting man. Seeing he was there, the man let go of her, though she did not move. 

“Are you alright?” he couldn’t help but ask it. In Ered Luin, and to dwarves as a whole, women and children were precious and revered. The same went for this girl—spy or not. 

“Fili?  _ This was in my dream, but you weren’t there. You were dead. _ ” The girl seemed to tear up more as she spoke, though he could not understand why. He grabbed her free hand, making sure to leave her bruising wrist untouched, and steadfastly ignoring the necklace in her other hand, and led her off, ignoring the shouts of the gross stall-keeper behind them. 

“What is that necklace? Why did you want it so bad?” He pointed to her occupied hand. “Necklace?” He repeated, hoping to teach her this word. 

She looked stunned, and met his eyes before dropping them back down to her hand. 

“Necklace.  _ Necklace. Weird, magical, dream necklace.  _ Necklace.  _ You probably just asked me why I pretty much stole this necklace and I will try and answer you, though you can’t understand me. It feels… important. Necessary, if you will… I don’t know why my dream played out in real life, though I suppose I’ve always had a weird sense of deja vu—even in the real world. _ ”

As she talked, she waved the necklace hand around, furrowing and unfurrowing her brow and a couple of times scrunched her nose. It seemed that she was a very animated talker. 

He didn’t know what she was saying, but he let her talk without interruption, letting the smooth flow of syllables wash over him as he mindlessly led her back to the inn. It was way too early for either of them to be out. Uncle would probably be trying to rouse everyone and get them to leave pretty soon, and Fili would like to be back when that happened. 

.oOo.

Fili had held her hand the entire way back to the inn. 

His hand was warm against her frozen fingers. It wasn’t her fault she had bad circulation, but with her hand in his, she was almost grateful for it. She was also inwardly cursing herself for not grabbing more of her iron tablets before dying so she wouldn’t have to deal with the black spots in her vision and the light-headedness that accompanied it. 

But now they were both back at the inn and she was able to put on her new boots and strap her new knife to her hip—it being too large to strap to her thigh where it was intended. She hung the necklace around her neck before tucking the pendant under her shirt where it would be safe from prying eyes and ne'er do wells. 

The dwarves were gathered, the ponies were saddled and then they were off. 

.oOo.

Her mind was, at the same time, empty and all too busy. The moment a thought slipped in her mind, several accompanied it, and then they were all gone from her hands like smoke, or perhaps water. It was a matter all too frustrating, and she wished she was laying down in complete darkness and silence to properly collect herself and her thoughts. This was a privilege she would not be granted for some time. 

One pondering she had in particular was what was going to happen next. For the life of her she could not remember. Which was a funny saying because she was technically dead. 

She spent the next couple of hours completely silent, trying not to let others know what she was thinking, and then she realized they wouldn’t understand anyway and that she might as well talk aloud—albeit quietly. 

“All right, ladies, we need to establish a timeline!” She announced, largely to her horse. Her quiet outburst gained the attention of several of the others. “Alright, we left Bree, what’s next? Shit, shit, shit, shit! Hmmm, this part could be equated to a training montage for as much screen time as it got. I know we don’t jump right into the trolls from Bilbo’s house, that’s a little too much, even for Peter Jackson—because it seems like this is the Movie-Verse, which is a literal godsend as it's easier to visualise and I can see what happens next.” 

Now, Bilbo, Bofur, Nori, Fili, and Dwalin were all watching her closely. Dwalin even had an eyebrow quirked. It was really unfair that she had a thing for rough dad types like him. 

She looked around and made note of everybody in their group, trying to figure out if anything was left out. 

“Ugh. I just want to get to Rivendell already, maybe fool around with some elven maids if I’m up to it.”

“Rivendell?” Bilbo asked, and she jumped in her saddled, not realizing how close the hobbit was to her. 

“Rivendell, Elrond, Lindir, other elves, a food fight, and a very amusing song.” 

“ _ Wha’s the lass saying ‘bout  _ Rivendell _! I’ll cut mah beard and break mah axe afore taking up with the elves! _ ” Dwalin groused, surely insulting the elves or something. 

“Yeah, yeah, Inbul-Hibir Fundhamad-ublag. Pointy eared lembas-mucher.” Dwalin looked at her in shock before he turned and mumbled something to Thorin. Bofur laughed loudly and shouted something. “I’m sick of it. This shit sucks. At least back home boring trips had some music, or some spice. Or I could understand what my family were saying.” She looked up at the sky and a realization came to her. 

“Oh, now I remember. It’s going to rain in a few days. The ‘deluge’, as Dori would say… and then Gandalf will talk about Radagast, and his pet hedgehog Sebastion—which I’m pretty sure was  _ not _ in the book, not that I’d remember—and then Saruman, who is my least favorite of the wizards, even though I only really know the three. And then he’s going to say he forgot the blue wizards, and to be honest me too, though I know their names start with the letter ‘A’ and ‘P’, which isn’t a lot to go on, but considering this hasn’t happened yet, is pretty good.” 

Dori granted her with a stern and untrusting look at the mention of his name and Gandalf was too far ahead for him to hear her speak of the wizards, though he would most likely be surprised that she knew them at all. 

“But first it’s going to be the cliff scene filled with angsty flashbacks of Thorin’s grandpa getting killed, though why they left out the death of Frerin is beyond me—wouldn’t they want to milk his suffering a little bit more? Cowards. I wonder if they are going to mention the prince or not. Would be interesting to hear about, considering his name isn’t mentioned at all in the movie. But that’s alright I’ve read enough fanfiction to make up the difference.”

She leaned forward on her horse and buried her face in its mane, inhaling the smell all beasts seem to have. Ignoring the grumbling shock of the dwarves at the mention of their late prince’s name. Her head started to throb and ache.

“We’re going to have rabbit stew for dinner.” She said simply, not knowing how she knew. 

.oOo.

“ _ So, there we were, bare of all but our beards and running along the market with the bags of coins in our hands. We won it fair and square afterall—it was our money. So why they were chasing us was a complete mystery, though it might have had something to do with the one guy from the other party getting stabbed, but it weren’t me who did it… So we were running down the market, no clothes- _ ”

“ _ Ye said that part already. _ ”

“ _ Yeah, well I’m reiterating to drive the point, anyway, we were running- _ ”

“ _ Ye’ve told this story to me ten times in the past two months! Ye won’t shut up about it! Ye were running, no clothes, and then you bump into your lady friend, she smacks you for the public indecency and what-not, and then you dive in the public fountain to hide from the guards who have also started chasing ye. And ye had to walk home cold, wet and bare. _ ” 

“ _ Well, ye could’ve at least let me finish mah own damn story, ‘s not as though everybody here has heard it. Tha lass hasn’t,  _ Bilbo _ hasn’t neither. _ ”

“ _ The lass cannae understand ye. _ ”

“ _ That doesnae matter, she’s still listening, ain’t ye? _ ”

“ _ See? that was a nod! She’s listenin’ for sure! _ ”

“ _ She could just be nodding because ye are a creep and she dinnae wanna hurt yer feelin’s. _ ”

“ _ I thought it was captivating,  _ Nori _ , though I felt some characters could’ve been introduced a little better. Overall, very fast paced and exciting. _ ”

“ _ See!  _ Bilbo _ here has something we like to call ‘taste’. _ ”

“ _ Oh please, he just wants teh be polite, I’m sure  _ Dwalin _ wouldn’t think it so. _ ”

“Dwalin _ , thoughts? _ ”

“ _ Shut up ye bunch of geese! _ ”

She had contently been listening to the obvious storytelling of Nori and Bofur. Leaning against her pack and watching the fire several feet away, she felt… somewhat like she belonged and like an outsider at the same time. The juxtaposition warred within her and made her feel content at moments and panicked in others. This was what her life was going to be like from now until they reclaimed the mountain. 

She stared deeply into the fire and lost herself to the crackling embers, the flaming sticks with ribbons of bright red marring the blackened surface. Some of the logs were wet from spilled water, and when they caught a flame, the evaporating water sounded like the screams of many people. She wondered if Thorin and Balin thought so too. 

She was reminded of the forest beyond the Misty Mountains. Up on the cliff, with dried pine needles littering the ground. It had all gone up and burned—will burn sometime in the future. 

She looked down and noticed a bowl of rabbit stew in her hands. She did not notice it getting there, or when she grabbed it. 

She had finally remembered that it was going to rain in a few days and then came to the realization that she had no gear for the coming rainfall. Though to be fair, neither did Bilbo. The hobbit had packed more this time than he had in the movies, remembering his handkerchief, a spare kitchen knife, a bar of soap, and a different coat than his rich velvet one. 

Already just this small change was altering the timeline. 

For one, the dwarves were far more amicable to a fun, laid-back Bilbo who needn’t worry about his home when it was being taken care of. He had everything he thinks he needs for the journey ahead, and so he isn’t panicking or snapping at the company, and for that he is being awarded with their friendship. 

Her on the other hand, not so much. 

It isn’t just the language barrier, but the strangeness of her being that drove them away. She had already surmised that she wasn’t a Hobbit, she certainly was not a dwarf, or an elf, and she wasn’t quite a man. Thorin was very much still in opposition to her being there, and she knew that it was only the good graces of Gandalf that granted her tentative position with the company. 

She ate the rabbit stew mechanically and tried to ignore the weird gristle and fatty bits that occupied most of her bowl. She drew her new cloak closer to her and wrapped herself in her brother’s sleeping bag—its scent reminding her of a place now lost to her. 

.oOo.

The next thing she remembered from the movie had been the scene atop the cliff where Thorin’s tragic backstory and a shit-ton of exposition had been dumped down upon them. It had always seemed weird to her, the layout of this scene and trying to discern what dwarves were awake and the general time of day it was. It made a lot more sense in person. 

After dinner, but before everyone truly fell asleep, Bilbo stood up and walked towards the ponies. Maybe it was to escape the loudness of the dwarves, or maybe his allergy to horses hadn’t altered his love for Myrtle, but nonetheless he left the main group to give an apple to the pony. 

She herself had been curled up at the base of a nearby tree, still untrusted by the dwarves and not allowed to go near the warmth of the fire. It hadn’t been a very good day, and she had gotten on Thorin’s nerves too many times, and so was banished to the outskirts of camp. 

Bilbo pet the horse quietly for a few minutes before looking over at her. And if all of her frustrations with not being able to speak the language were clear, Bilbo stayed silent.

Then, as if fated, the screech sounded in the distance. She wondered faintly if it was the screams of the farmer and his family getting killed and eaten by the three mountain trolls. But then she remembered that in the movie the hut had been overtaken by plants. But there was also the throw away line that the farmer had been too “sinewy” made of nothing but skin and bones. So who really knew?

“ _ What was that? _ ” 

“ _ Orcs _ .” Kili responded, and now she knew what the word for orc was because she could recite that line word for word. Bilbo moved to the edge of the cliff, looking over before scrambling over to the princes, who were struggling to hold back their grins. Poor Bilbo. They wouldn’t be laughing if they knew about the Fell Winter and what it truly cost the Shire. Bilbo knew the mark of the orcs, just not as well as some. But was that even canon? She was so tired. 

“Orcs?” Bilbo asked once he was closer to the dwarves, leaving her alone by the tree, though she didn’t think he even would have noticed. 

Thorin sat up a little straighter from where he was reclined on the rocks, though he stayed silent—seemingly gauging how his nephews would handle the situation, as well as how Bilbo would react. 

“ _ Throat Cutters, _ ” Fili began. “ _ There’ll be dozens of them out there. The Lone-Lands will be crawling with them. _ ”

“ _ They strike in the wee small hours when everyone’s asleep. Quick and quiet. No screams, just lots of blood. _ ” 

It seemed as though the princes finished their speech and Bilbo turned away, looking out into the valley below. He didn’t see the two princes turning to each other and laughing, though she did. She frowned at them, knowing the gist of what they said but nothing more, and wished she could chew them out rather than Thorin. 

“ _ You think a night raid by  _ Orcs _ is a joke? _ ”

“ _ We didn’t mean anything by it uncle, we’re sorry. _ ”

“ _ You know nothing of the world _ .”

Here we go, with all the angst. 

Kili bore a pitifully sad look on his face, like the disappointment from his uncle was something much deeper than it seemed. Though she didn’t have the context of the conversation to go by, she could kind of tell what was happening by the way the dwarves moved, and what faces they were making. 

Suddenly Balin was there, reassuring Bilbo and the princes, telling his weirdly personal story. Thorin marched to the ledge, close by to where she was stationed, though he appeared to not notice this. 

She focused more on Thorin than the movies had, looking at his openly grieving face. This felt too personal, she shouldn’t be here to see this. None of the others should either. She felt mad at Balin for sharing someone else’s story. When she heard the mention of Frerin’s name from Balin’s lips, she was thankful that it wasn’t in the movie where widespread audiences could make a spectacle of it. Thorin’s face was crumpled and the deep set lines of his face made him ugly in his grief. This was no longer the movie or the story she had watched so many times in her previous life. 

Thorin stood tall on that ledge, but she could tell that he wished he could sit down and let the burden fall from his shoulders. She could do that for him. If she could speak their language, she would tell him of her lost family, maybe commiserate over their shared loss. She could tell him how certain she was of the success of the quest. Maybe she would tell him that death wasn’t an awful thing, even if it kind of was. 

But that wasn’t how it happened. Thorin strutted back to the warmth of his brood and the fire and she was left with a maelstrom of emotion all alone. Her head felt as though it were splitting. She dug further in her blanket and hid her tears from the ponies. 

.oOo.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ;8) Very nice angst you got there Thorin, would be a shame if someone were to magnify that by mentioning your deceased little brother.


	6. A Deluge of Many Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The journey to Rivendell had seemed pleasant in the movies. One might sit on their couch in the comfort of their homes and think "Dory saying the word Deluge is funny". In person it wasn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey friends! Sorry the update today is a little late, a combination of a sliced up finger via kitchen accident and a major snowstorm have prevented me from taking the time to sit down and edit this chapter. Now remember the tag "feral behavior" and "Original Character goes feral"? Those are going to make appearances at the end of the chapter. An explanation will be attached in the end notes. 
> 
> Thank you to everybody who comments!! I go back and read them all the time, they really mean a lot to me. 
> 
> Obligatory thanks to everybody who has left a kudos, who has bookmarked, and who has subscribed.

The next day, she rode up near Thorin, trying to tell him about the rain storm. She had no clue why it was so important he knew. Maybe it was just to show him that she knew things that she wasn’t supposed to. Maybe it was so that she could become a reliable source of information on this journey like she had planned on being. Maybe it was a product of what had occurred the night before. 

Either way, informing Thorin was on the top of her priority list. 

Dwalin and Gloin glared at her as she grew closer and she squared her shoulders, determined not to cower. She was not going to be portrayed as some weak-willed side character. 

When she finally got up to Thorin, the conversation around them went silent as everybody watched to see what she would do next. Truthfully, she didn’t know herself. However, the king seemed adamant that he would not acknowledge her presence and so he kept riding with his eyes facing forward. 

“Thorin,” she called. He still did not look. “Thorin, I know you and I aren’t on great terms, but it is really important to me that you pay attention.” She started to wave her arms around, which drew his eyes, if not his attention. 

She pointed to the sun and then mimicked it going down and then held up the hand sign for two. In two days something will happen. She pointed at a stray wisp of a cloud and waved her hands in a flat wide circle. Many clouds—very cloudy. Then she pointed at a small creek and wagged her fingers in the air while moving her hands down. It will rain in two days. That was as clear as she was going to get with her more than limited vocabulary.

Thorin looked at her as if she lost her mind and then nudged his horse forward, leaving her behind. Many of the dwarves laughed and she felt her face alight in shame and embarrassment. 

She went back to her place in the group and sat silently in dejection. 

.oOo.

Just like she predicted, it rained two days later, and the next, and then the next. 

Their shelters at night were damp and leaking, and she was seldom, if ever, granted the privilege of being allowed to seek refuge from the downpour with the dwarves despite her having warned them beforehand. 

Her clothes, boots, cloak, and sleeping bag were all soaked and the chill ran all the way down to her bones, leaving her teeth chattering. This was not aided by her bad blood circulation that left her fingertips and toes cold on even warm days. She missed modern day conveniences like central air and heating, or hot baths and thermal underwear. 

She curled closer to her horse when they rode, and ignored everybody around her, trying to focus on something other than the cold. It became a chore to get on and off the beast, her joints locking and protesting too much movement. 

In the beginning she had hoped that maybe Bilbo or Gandalf would notice her unending misery, but it seems everybody had been too caught in their own melancholy that they paid no mind to others. She couldn’t even get mad at them because they all were stuck in the rain day after day. 

In the movie, the scene had been lighthearted—something for the audience to laugh at and break up the monotony of mindless cross-country travel. 

They might say things like: 

“Oh, haha, Gandalf can’t remember the wizard’s name.”

Or:

“Boy, I am so glad I am inside and dry and not in  _ that _ weather.”

Or maybe even: 

“Dori just said ‘deluge’, who says that anymore?”

Somebody in a deluge would say that. She had been one of those people, laughing along at the mediocrity of the scene, which had so obviously been filler to act like the extra characters were given screen time and character development. Maybe even to show audiences that something so small as a rainstorm would show how difficult the journey was to come. Now, all joyfulness had been leached from her body along with her warmth. 

She could only try and save her few possessions from the unending downpour and hope that it let up soon. 

.oOo.

It was on the fourth day that the rain let up. 

“Damn, that was quite the storm,” Kili said, draping atop his brother and letting his damp hair drip upon the other’s face. 

“You can say that again, I don’t think I’ll ever be properly dry, now if you will kindly cut it out, I might have a fighting chance,” Fili replied, shoving his brother off of him. 

They had found a clearing just off of the road where they could lay their clothes out to dry in the sun and recuperate from the storm. The surrounding forest smelled lovely after the rain. Tender, fresh, and green, it seemed as though it were a paradise. 

He was not the only one to think so. One Bilbo Baggins seemed to go positively crazy, rooting around nearby tree trunks for something. Kili watched intently as the hobbit disappeared only to pop back up with a large brown mushroom. Although the halfling was far enough to where he couldn't hear what he had to say, Kili still saw the triumphant gestures made. 

The others were spread out, napping in the sun. Bifur was messing around with long blades of grass and small wild flowers, weaving something out of the plant material. Bombur was napping some ways off, Bofur was whittling something next to his brother, though it seemed less of a creative endeavor and more like something to chase boredom away. 

The Oin brothers were both asleep. 

Ori was trying his hardest to save his charcoal drawings and journals while Dori was working on his hair. Nori had seemingly already fixed his hair and was lazing around near Bofur, occasionally poking him in the face with one of those weeds that had the fuzzy ends on them. 

Dwalin and Uncle were polishing their swords, grumbling and grousing about something or other, and Balin was checking the state of the contracts and various other papers. Fili was attempting to bask in the sun next to Kili, but kept squinting when the sun hit his face. 

The wizard was puffing along on his pipe and looking quite content with himself, despite his lack of magic to aid them during the storm. But Kili rather thought that wizards were odd, and even though they had reasons for what they did, oftentimes they seemed to be outside the realm of understanding. 

The only person unaccounted for was the girl. 

In fact, he hadn’t seen her since the theatrics she had performed to Uncle Thorin. Nobody had quite understood what she meant until the rain had started up, and then she was talking to herself. Very odd indeed. And now that he was thinking about it further, he had to look. She was just a girl, and if anything happened to her, it would be their fault. 

However, when he finally caught sight of her, neatly hidden behind Bifur, he blushed heavily and quickly looked away. 

“Don’t look now, Fi, but the girl isn’t wearing a shirt.”

“What? Where?” 

Kili stifled a laugh as his brother caught sight of the girl and turned away with a tomato red face. 

“Why is she bare?” he whined. This time Kili did laugh at his brother’s pitiful tone. 

“I don’t know, you will have to ask her yourself, Fi.” 

“I can’t do that! As strange as she might be, she is still a lady! I can’t approach her like that, uncle would kill me, and she probably would too!” 

Kili let out another laugh and looked this time at Bifur who seemed to not mind in the slightest, though Kili didn’t know why that was either. 

Bilbo came back to him laughing, still in a joyful mood over the finding of a mushroom. 

“What’s so funny?” the halfling asked, still standing but not much taller than the sitting dwarf. Kili pointed towards his brother before over to the girl. Bilbo followed his finger and blushed just as heavily as both of them did. “Oh for Yavannah’s sake! That girl… I swear she always does this. It is highly inappropriate.” 

“What does that mean, Mr. Boggins?”

“Baggins. This isn’t the first time she’s done this… Honestly,” he grumbled.

“Oh?”

“I’ve said quite enough, I need to get her back into a proper covering now, if you don’t mind.”

The hobbit marched towards the dwarven trio and the girl, his crazy curly hair bouncing with every step. 

Kili and Fili both watched with great humor as Bilbo tried explaining to the girl that she needed to wear clothes, and then squeaked very loudly when the girl only glared and threw her wet, balled up shirt at him. 

Fili whistled at Bilbo, catching the halfling’s attention before throwing a spare shirt his way and pointing towards the girl. She grumbled as she put it on, but grew quiet and threw a flushed glance their way, making eye contact with Fili before throwing herself back down and acting like she was going to nap. 

Kili pretended that his brother hadn’t made the same face back at her. 

.oOo.

Great, she was embarrassing herself. 

She had taken off her damp cloak and shirt, but kept her pants on, hoping that using Bifur as a cover would be enough to keep her from prying eyes. She had also surreptitiously stowed the necklace in her pack, leaving it there for safety. It wasn’t fair that the men got to bare themselves as they pleased to escape the wet imprisonment of their clothes, but she was forced to sit in them. 

So she didn’t. Fair’s fair. Until she heard a distant laughing and Bilbo came over yelling something or other and gesturing to her obvious lack of covering. She simply glared at him and threw her wet shirt in defiance. There. It’s not as though she were hurting anybody by baring her small chest. There was hardly anything to even look at.

Then a rather red Fili threw his shirt over and she had no choice but to wear it. 

The cloth smelled very different from Bilbo’s. It was more earthy, smelled more like a human than Bilbo’s light and airy lavender-scented fabrics. She caught his eye and her face grew warm. Maybe she wasn’t the heart-eater she had thought before. She was getting her heart eaten instead—though it was simply too early to tell.

She threw herself back down, hiding from his piercing blue gaze and the knowing gaze of Kili next to him. They didn’t know each other! Well, she knew him, but that wasn’t the point. This was all just basal desire. 

Some time had passed—an hour at the most, and she finally gathered the courage to look into her pack. 

Her books were dripping, the pages warped. Her sketchbook didn’t seem to fare any better, so much so that she couldn’t look—afraid that the portraits of her brothers and friends were wiped away. The envelope of pictures and documents was still dripping when she unearthed it, ripping the white paper slightly. 

She could feel a deep frown making its way to her lips and she had to close her eyes and focus on her breathing so she didn’t start crying over the loss of the only real things of value she had. 

When she opened her eyes, she saw Ori out of the corner of her eye, and knew immediately that he would help her salvage what was still alright. She piled up her papers, leaving the larger pack next to Bifur where it would remain safe and untouched. 

“Ori, I need your help with something important.” The young dwarf looked up at her from where he was sitting. 

“Yes?” He asked, not impolitely. She held up the stack of damp material. “Oh _. I see. May I? _ ” He held a hand out and she handed the papers to him. 

.oOo.

The girl had walked over to him with a stack of damp books and papers and seemed like she wanted help drying them out. He could understand, which is most likely why she went to him and not someone like, say, Oin, who was very good at what he does, but wasn’t very delicate with books and documents like he was with patients and their wounds. 

He gestured for her to sit down across from him, aware of the eyes on him. The stack was placed in front of him and he started at the top with the envelope. Soggy and torn, it seemed he had his work cut out for him. 

However, the contents of the envelope were truly a shock. It wasn’t a letter, and it only held a few very foreign documents, but the main prize was the pictures. Detailed—every single one of them. The artist must have been very talented. He looked up at her and held up one of the paintings, raising his eyebrows. 

“You?” 

“No,  _ those are from other people, I just collect them. _ ” Nonetheless they were gorgeous and seemed to portray the everyday life of the people, her people; her culture. 

He laid them out upon the grass, gently, grateful the wind hadn’t picked up. He could see a few of the others gathering around and muttering in shock at the tiny, detailed paintings on the ground. 

He moved onto the first book which boasted a painted cover of a female figure with a candle in a dimly lit red castle. He felt like he would get lost in the painted layers of the illustration and flipped through the damp pages carefully, giddy about the foreign language it held. This was a great learning opportunity. He was also shocked at the uniformity of the letters. The writer must have been renowned for their prowess. 

The next book was much thicker and the text was more dense, though it was still in the foreign language of the first. However, the title of the book was a sequence of numbers. 2-3-1-2. The script was strange and uniform. He looked up to the girl and held up the book cover—oddly made of thicker paper than the thin pages, but not leather. 

“ _ Twenty three twelve. It’s a very good book, very dense. Probably my favorite sci-fi novel. You don’t know what sci-fi is though. _ ” She pointed at each individual number and held up corresponding fingers to indicate how much value each number got. “ _ Two… three… one… two. _ ” Ori repeated it, excited to know some words in a different language. He then repeated them in Westron for her, listening to her repeat it very nicely. Numbers were always easy to learn in a new language. 

Finally, Ori made his way to the last book that had a plain black cover. The girl seemed nervous about this book, leaning forward as he opened the cover. 

It was a drawing book. How nice! He hadn’t the money or privilege to have his own blank book for the use of purely drawing. All the blank books he had were on loan so that he could transcribe the journey. It was his duty as a scribe apprentice. Anything else had to be procured on his own. 

“You?” He asked again.

“Yes, me.”

The drawings inside were smudged, but clearly very good. The girl sighed in relief as the pages were turned and drawings were revealed largely undamaged. 

One picture was of two little boys with curly hair. One had a beaming smile and the other had a scratch on his nose. 

“ _ Those are—were—my…  _ Nadadith.” Ori looked up quickly at the use of Khuzdul. He didn’t know where she learned it, but he hadn’t taught her. He wouldn’t—shouldn’t get in trouble for it, so he didn’t say anything. But the knowledge that Cassandra is travelling with their company, on  _ their _ quest, presumably far away from her home and family was a very grim thought. 

He looked back at the drawing and the obvious love for the boys he could see in the delicate marks used. He jolted in surprise at the light touch on his wrist. He looked up and she looked apologetic. 

“Nadadith…  _ How do y’all say dead? _ ” She looked frustrated before using a finger and swiping it across her neck like somebody would slit a throat— oh… Ori understood now. 

“Dead?” He asked quietly. She nodded. 

“Me nadadith dead. Amad dead. Adad dead…” She looked uncomfortable and he dropped his head, paging carefully through the portraits. Many pages boasted friendly faces, but they were odd in their unfamiliarity. One was of a woman that looked a lot like the girl. 

“Amad,” she confirmed. 

There were no pictures of her father, and he knew better than to ask why—his father had been a notably absent presence in his life so he understood. Still though, he placed the pictures down and felt bad for invading the girl’s business. Obviously it was very personal, but he was grateful for the glimpse into the person they were travelling with. Obviously she wasn’t as dangerous as Thorin was thinking. 

.oOo.

Sleep eluded her that night. 

In her previous life she was plagued with feelings of inadequacy and it seemed that even with the distance of death, she was followed by its whispers. What she could have done, what she should have done. 

What if she hadn’t ran? What if the car hadn’t started in the driveway and she had realized her plan wasn’t realistic? What if she had just  _ talked _ to someone instead of bottling it all up until she cried in the car alone with no one to comfort her? What if, what if, what if…

It was undeniable that if things had gone differently she would still be at home. She would still be working tirelessly for an unachievable goal, but at least she would still have her family; or what’s left of it. Her mother, her brother, her friend. Her father and her other brother were no longer in the picture, but that had been the case for a long time. 

She felt rather as though she had been cheated of something. 

Unable to talk, unable to understand, she felt trapped. Claustrophobic despite her being outside with others. Yet, she was lonely. 

She placed a hand on her brow, pushing her hair back as she stared up at the clear night sky. The moon was absent from the starscape, and darkness fell over everything—unaffected by the dying embers of the nearby fire. She fiddled with her necklace, embracing the cutting cold it provided to maintain her own clarity. 

Unbidden tears sprouted in her eyes. She didn’t know how she felt. Confused, most likely. A bit tired, probably. More than a little frustrated, sometimes. 

The dwarves snored somewhere behind her, clustered together in their little groups. Even Bilbo had been adopted in a cluster—fitting nicely between Dwalin and Thorin. 

She had been left alone. Exposed to any danger, cold and unwanted. 

She stood up, suddenly mad at the rock that was digging into her hip bone and wanting to be anywhere but there. She looked behind her and couldn’t tell which dwarf it was that was supposed to be on watch, they all looked asleep to her. 

She left her pack there in the spot of trodden grass that she had been laying on, her shoes neatly next to it. The trees were very much taller than her, and the chirupping of the crickets and the croaking of the frogs sounded around her in the chilled spring air. 

She stepped forward, swallowing down the acid creeping up her throat. 

.oOo.

The wilds swallowed her up and it seemed so likely that she would get lost here, left behind and turn into a feral animal—a being who had forgotten her humanity. She was already going down that path—not wearing her new boots and eating with her hands instead of the spoons and forks given. She had always enjoyed eating with her hands, but now she was always able to do that. 

She tripped on a root, leaving her stumbling into a tree and scratching her palm against its unforgiving surface. 

She kept going, unknowing where she was going, or when she would stop and turn back. 

.oOo.

It wasn’t until she was very lost that she decided to sit down and take a deep breath. 

The thought that had been circling in her mind was the fact that she might be immortal. 

She had already died, so who was to say she was even alive right now? Nobody knew she was dead, and the only reason she did was because she could remember dying, she could remember how cold it was. She had the scars to prove it to herself. 

Even if she was immortal, dying was not an experience she was looking to experience again.

However, she couldn’t prove this. There was no indication so far that she was immortal, or just hallucinating, or in a coma. She had a whole lot of nothing for a whole bunch of something. 

She looked up and through the trees she could not see any of the stars. 

.oOo.

She walked mindlessly around and somehow found her way back to camp with little trouble, almost as if she knew the way or had someone giving her directions. 

.oOo.

She was in a dense forest this time, and she was all alone.

Far in front of her, a white deer bent down to nibble at the grass. She couldn’t help but freeze and stare at the beautiful creature. It felt important—like a message of some sorts. It seemed to symbolize something but what that something was she did not know. 

She heard a laugh from somewhere behind her and she whirled around to see nothing but black behind her. She turned back to the deer as a chill went up her spine. However, the deer wasn’t there anymore, instead it was her family and friends. 

She took a step forward, tears in her eyes. Could she have just been dreaming middle earth? Was she truly back where she belonged? She started slowly but her pace picked up until she was running at full speed towards them—but they stayed the same distance away. 

She heard a sound and looked to her right only to see the headlights again and then she was in the truck reliving her last moments. 

.oOo.

She woke with a start and ignored everybody around her just as they were ignoring her. 

She surreptitiously wiped the tears from her eyes and focused on packing her stuff back into her bag. 

.oOo.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So my reasoning for why she starts going feral at times is that she is kind of a creature? Like she's died and been resurrected in a world where the wilderness makes up a large portion of the land. There isn't a lot of civilization and so she is kind of embracing the wildness that has been presented to her. It also is somewhat due to the necklace, which will be explained later :8)


	7. Against the Sky

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We are fighting trolls. Thorin is picking fights with wizards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey Y'all! I just wanted to let y'all know that I will be taking a two-week break after this post. I need a little time to catch up on school work and write some more chapters. I have 13 chapters so far, but as this is the seventh chapter, I feel like I need a little more cushion. I will be posting regularly after the break though, so do not worry! 
> 
> Again, thank you to everybody who commented, dropped a kudos, subscribed, and bookmarked! I love you all!

She had known the trolls were coming, but she hadn’t known when. 

It had been two weeks after Fili had given her his shirt when they stumbled upon the charred farmhouse in the early evening. 

She still hadn’t relinquished the shirt back to it’s proper owner, adamantly keeping it on despite her shirt being long dried by now. 

There were larger problems at hand than the simple return of another’s shirt. 

This was a threshold—the point of no return. Quite literally the first conflict from a third party that will inflict harm upon the company. It will set the standard for the level of danger for the rest of the journey, and while there is still going to be points of down time, there too will be lots of periods of fighting and running with no break or pause. This was one of the many things she was dreading. 

Like Gimli quite aptly said once in the second Lord of the Rings movie: “I'm wasted on cross-country! We dwarves are natural sprinters! Very dangerous over short distances!” This spoke not only of Gimli’s ability, but hers as well. 

“ _ We’ll camp here for the night.  _ Fili, Ki­li _ , look after the  _ ponies _. Make sure you stay with them. _ ”

She grew closer to Thorin and Gandalf, concealing herself in the brush, knowing that even if she heard every single word they exchanged, she would not be able to understand it. 

“ _ A farmer and his family used to live here.... _ ” Gandalf said distantly, however, it seemed as though Thorin was doing his best to ignore the wizard. 

“Oin, Gloin.”

“Yes?” 

“ _ Get the fire going. _ ”

“ _ Aye, that’ll do _ .” 

“ _ I think it would be wiser to move on. We could make for the hidden valley. _ ” This time, Thorin would acknowledge the grey maiar.

“ _ I’ve told you this already,  _ Tharkun _. I would not step foot in that place. _ ”

“ _ Why not? The _ Elves  _ could help us, we could get _ food,  _ rest, advice. _ ”

“ _ I have no need for the advice from any  _ elf _. _ ” 

While she was annoyed by Thorin’s hard-headedness, she was even more excited for the elves. Maybe, just maybe, she could find an elf maiden to be her companion for a night. She also couldn’t wait for a hot bath; she would finally be able to wash her hair—she hadn’t seen herself in a mirror lately but she would bet everything she had that she looked like a weasel dipped in grease. But that wasn’t important. First she needed to get past the trolls and orcs before she could take a load off in Rivendell with the pretty people. 

“ _ We have a map that cannot be read by any present. Lord _ Elrond  _ could lend us aid and counsel _ .” Thorin’s face grew red in rage and she couldn’t help her flinch. 

“ _ Aid? Counsel? A dragon attacks  _ Erebor _. What aid came from the  _ Elves _?  _ Orcs _ plunder  _ Moria, _ desecrate our sacred halls, the  _ Elves _ looked on and did nothing! You ask me to seek out the very people who betrayed my grandfather, who betrayed my father. _ ” 

“ _ You are not your grandfather, nor your father. I did not give you that map and key for you to hold on to the past. _ ” The argument was beginning to be a lot longer than she remembered. 

“ _ I did not realize they were yours to keep. Did not realize this was  _ **_your_ ** _ quest to reclaim  _ Erebor _! I should’ve known better, considering you’ve taken to making decisions without consulting me or mine. The girl is proof enough. I was amicable to your burglar—but the girl… you had nothing to gain. _ ”

“ _ And neither had I anything to lose by her presence. In time I believe you will come to find that there are other forces at work here, beyond the imaginings of you or me. Things we cannot comprehend are taking place. For you to accuse me of trying to ‘steal’ the quest from you is preposterous and I will  _ **_not_ ** _ have you accusing me of such,  _ Thorin Oakenshield _! _ ”

Uh oh, what just happened? Her eyes followed Gandalf, who had turned around and marched off huffing all the while. He seemed more angered than he had been in the movie, and she was so very very lost. 

“ _ Is everything alright?  _ Gandalf _ , where are you going?What was that yelling about?  _ Gandalf _? _ ”

She knew the response, and in fact mouthed along to Gandalf as he delivered the fated lines that would leave them high and dry during the troll conflict—until he later swooped in as a Deus Ex Machina. 

“To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense.” 

“And who is that?”

“Myself, Master Baggins. I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day!”

.oOo.

She did not let herself relax, waiting for the moment where the princes would run back and announce that  _ Mr. Boggins _ was captured by trolls, and likely to be eaten. 

“... Gandalf.” Bilbo said, in response to something Bofur said. Likely talking about how the wizard could handle himself. 

“ _ He’s a wizard! He does as he chooses. Here. Do us a favor, take this to the lads. _ ” She looked over just long enough to see Bofur hit his brother with the wooden spoon and scold him for wanting more. She missed Bilbo’s departure from the main group, and cursed herself for it. 

“Hmm.” She jumped, looking up. Bifur stood towering over her with two bowls in his large paws. He dropped down next to her more gracefully than one would have thought. The tall dwarf had been doing that a lot lately, eating dinner with her; away from camp as was the norm. 

Perhaps it was born from the kinship of having no one understand you despite being perfectly fine, just lost in a different language. But in truth, she didn’t know, and at this point she was so starved for companionship that even if she wanted to, she wouldn’t complain. 

She didn’t question it either, she was grateful for his company—and always had a soft spot for the misunderstood dwarf that became the butt of many jokes in the movies. 

He handed her the bowl of stew—mushroom this time, and she ate silently, eyes trained on where she saw Fili and Kili disappear into the woods around them. She had no clue how long anything took and resigned herself to patiently waiting for the princes to come running back in a panic. 

.oOo.

She had been mistaken. It hadn’t been both of the princes to run back, just Fili and she couldn’t gauge whether or not that was what had happened before because Peter Jackson was a giant fuck-face. Now, she was thrown off balance, wondering if something had changed or if it remained the same as the original timeline, or if it happened in the books. 

Nevertheless, she sat where she was as the remaining dwarves jumped up with their weapons in hand and ran into the woods with boastful cries warning all those around them that they were battle-ready. It wouldn’t help the fact that they were against three near-impenetrable giant rock creatures that smelled horrid and had even worse vocabulary. She waited there for a couple of minutes before putting out the fire and packing away all of their camp supplies, maybe this would earn them a little more time the next day when they were to run from the orcs and wargs. It was literally the least she could do considering all her strengths were in vastly different areas than surviving in the wilderness and fighting. 

She left the now re-packed bags in a neat pile, leaving her bag as well, before quietly creeping into the woods where the dwarves were. 

As she crept farther from the now dark campsite, she could make out a fire in the distance and the moving of several figures in the dim light. She had no intention of facing the trolls. She wasn’t stupid. She would leave Bilbo to do what he had done in the movie—resulting in a lack of bodily injuries. If she interfered or tried to be brave, it could alter events and result in her injury, or the injury of others. This was something she was trying to avoid. 

No, she would instead cut the dwarves out of their bags and help them along from the sidelines—out of sight, until Gandalf did his breaking the boulder thing. However, the moment she arrived at the campsite and hid behind the tree, the dwarves were still fighting the trolls. 

She peered around the rough bark and watched as Bilbo got picked up by a troll and subsequently used as a bargaining chip. She didn’t know what to make of the raw fear in both Dwalin and Thorin’s eyes, but she supposes that fear was what led to their initial stripping before climbing in the bags. 

This part took longer than she had thought. Another complaint to be made to Peter Jackson. 

However, the well-sculpted backs of some of the dwarves did not go unnoticed by her. Most were handed large burlap sacks after they stripped into their smallclothes, the other section of dwarves were put on a spit to roast over the fire. She hadn’t remembered which dwarves were where, but she had known that Dwalin and Thorin were separated. 

As it turned out, Nori and Dori, along with Bofur, Bifur and Fili were on the spit. That was a large number of their best fighters unreachable. The brothers Oin, Bombur, Kili, Thorin, Bilbo, and Balin were in a pile in front of a large boulder on the west most point of the camp. 

There were two steady conversations between only the dwarves and only the trolls that she couldn’t understand either. 

She refused to go help them until Bilbo did his thing. Again, she was aiming for the original timeline here. Though she was pushed into some sort of action when Thorin growled something and looked off in her general direction, even if she hid very well in the underbrush and his eyes went right over her cloaked figure. 

When Bilbo did stand up, she crept over to Thorin. Her intention was to release first Thorin, then Gloin, then Kili and finally Balin. The others were too far from her reach to untie without capture. 

She got right up close to the dwarf king and whispered.

“Thorin.” He jumped up, obviously shocked at her sudden appearance. She held a finger to her lips, indicating that he needed to be quiet. He nodded, a furrow in his brow as he peered back to the hobbit who was now risking his life talking up to the trolls. 

“I’m going to untie you, Gloin, Kili, Balin, yes?” Thorin nodded. “No Dwalin, or Dori or Fili.”

“Yes, yes,  _ I get it, can you do something now? I assume you are intended to release us from these smelly sack prisons. _ ” 

“ _ Oi, wha’s that? _ ”

“ _ Yeah, who’s ‘at ‘e’s talkin’ to _ ?” 

“ _ Nobody! He is a little… touched. A symptom of the parasites I’m afraid. Poor dwarves... _ ”

She glared at Thorin, once again holding a finger up to her pursed lips. He looked appropriately cowed. 

“You think I’m trying to get killed over here, fella?” she whispered. Thorin didn’t deign that with a response.

Her brand new, stolen knife from Bree was put to the test against the clumsy knots and rotting rope that had been used. 

With Thorin now free, she held out her hand, stopping him from moving. In the back of her mind she was reminded of the morning back in the smial when he had done the same to her. She ignored the thought, then pointed at herself and then Gloin. He glared and acquiesced, settling back down and trying to act as though nothing were wrong. Good. 

Gloin and Kili were positioned in front of Thorin and would be harder to access than, say, Balin. But Balin was not as good a fighter as the other two—he was older for sure, and even trying not to be ageist, she understood his limits as an older, very mortal gentleman. 

The dwarf king provided enough cover, disguising his shielding as simply protesting his bagging. She whispered Gloin’s name and went through with her shushing routine, working through the freeing steadily. It wasn’t until she reached Kili that trouble started. 

The younger prince had been very squirmy and yelped when she appeared, not giving her time to shush him. 

“Huh?  _ Wha’s tha? _ ” She crumpled to the ground in shock, trying to hide herself. She wiggled underneath Kili, slashing through his knot with ease before concealing her knife once more, hiding herself under the dwarves. She even stopped breathing, trying to maybe blend into the rocks. But her heart was racing and she couldn't hold her breath for very long.

Her effort was for naught, and it only took a minute for them to roll the dwarves over and grab her by the back of her shirt. Scruffed like a kitten. 

“ _ Wait! Wait! _ ” Bilbo cried, trying to get the attention back on himself. 

“ _ Another BurglarHobbit! _ ”

“ _ I thought there was only one of you’s! _ ” 

She squeaked as the grip shifted and her airway was cut off. This is exactly why she didn’t want to be brave and try to save everyone. This is why she had hidden herself and tried so very hard to not get caught. 

Words were being spoken, but even if she could understand them, they wouldn’t have registered. The grip was moved once more and she could breathe again. Though the damage was already done and black spots flooded her vision blinking in and out faster than she could comprehend. She grew nauseated and dizzy. The hand gripping her kept shaking her around and her brain rattled and her nausea grew exponentially. 

The only thing she could rely on was her odd knowledge of certain events. 

“William! Bert! Tom!” She shouted at the top of her lungs. 

  
“ _ Oi! How’d it know our names? _ ” She was shaken, hard. “ _ Tell us, rat. How’d you know our names? _ ”

“ _ She can’t understand you! She doesn’t speak Westron. _ ”

“ _ Well, nevermind that then! It’s eat-able anyway. I say we eat it whole before we really do get caught out. _ ”

“ _ Tha’ ain’t a bad idea. It’s too small for a mouthful. I say each of us gets a nibble! _ ”

“ _ Nu-uh! I caughts it, I eats it! _ ”

Another troll shoved the first troll and she was dropped nearly in the fire. 

She burned a few of her fingers on the hot rocks and coals, but she was just glad to be out of their grasp. Rolling on her back, she saw the sky lighten just slightly from the east and knew that Gandalf would be there any moment. She looked over and just above her were the flushed, red faces of Bofur and Nori. She held a thumbs up to them and tried to smile, but her throat was still burning from the scruffing and she still hadn’t regained all of her vision yet. Her anemic state was of no help. 

“ _ Great now you dropped it! It’ll be covered in soot now! _ ” 

A great crack sounded and she lifted her head up a little bit in time to see both sides of the boulder fall. She dropped her head back down on the ground. A laugh escaped her.

“May the dawn take you all,” She said along with Gandalf. 

.oOo.

The troll cave had smelled so bad that her nausea had come back with a vengeance and she had thrown up what little food was left in her stomach. She got a couple of sympathetic looks as she wiped her mouth on her dirty sleeve. Surely the elves would let her wash her clothes. 

Still, she had a very prevalent need inside the cave. The gold. While the boys had put a lot of it away for a “long time deposit”, there was still a lot more that she could really use. Even if it ended up that they didn’t need it, she would feel more comfortable with a bargaining tool nonetheless. Who knows, maybe it could be used in Laketown to help Bard and his Children.

She gathered up a rather nice pile of the coins and placed them in a pocket inside her pack. She would’ve put them amongst her jewelry or in the tin box, but she didn’t want the dwarves to see what she truly possessed. Especially since she was already concealing the eye necklace she had stolen in her pack—removed after her evening in the woods where she had lost her mind for a good few hours. 

.oOo.

It was a good two hours before Radagast arrived, and it gave the company ample time to backtrack to the original camp by the burnt remains of the farmhouse and retrieve their belongings. If they were at all shocked and surprised that everything was packed up, they didn’t show it. 

So it was with this relaxed air about them that Radagast arrived bringing about his shout of thieves, and fire, and murder. Though why he had been shouting at all was a wonder. Not that she would’ve been able to ask anyway. 

She stood up and stretched, making sure that all of her joints had clicked and popped appropriately before walking over to the group. Her vision swam in protest, but she adamantly moved on, ignoring the signs that her lack of iron was going to make this journey a lot harder than it was supposed to be. 

Gandalf had taken the wizard aside and she knew that during this part of the movie it would be a flash to Dol Guldur and the sickness of the greenwood. However, she couldn’t see nor hear it so she stuck to her little spot near the others at the troll cave. 

A spare moment’s thought went towards the ponies, wondering if she could get away with staying on the pony while they were running so she wouldn’t have to put in any effort. Then she realized that she would be taller on a pony, making her more of a target. If there was anything she wanted to be less of, it was a target. She would rather run than die and that seemed like it was going to be a recurring theme for the rest of the journey. 

The dwarves were milling around, trying their hardest to avoid not only the two wizards but also the big rabbits.

“I forgot about them!” She said “Rhosgobel Rabbits! Ahhh!” 

She walked up to the large rabbits, who were almost as big as her. She clicked her tongue in a way she hoped beckoned the rabbits closer. 

“Hi baby, hi. Hi,” she cooed to the one that was closest to her. The rabbit was inching closer, its nose twitching every which way. “Yes, come here baby. I love you. Hi.” She kept her voice low as she crouched down, making the rabbit bigger than her. She held out her hand, palm up, for it to sniff at so that it would let her pet it. 

Its pelt was the softest thing she had ever felt in her life. 

.oOo.

Fili watched as the girl persuaded one of the large rabbits into letting her pet it. 

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t jealous. He would love nothing more than to pet the large creature, but he knew that if he went over there it would earn his uncle’s ire. Ever since the escape from the trolls, and actually since he had fought with Tharkun, he had been in a piss-poor mood. 

He had corralled Kili far from his uncle, knowing that his restless little brother would end up berated for something or other. He was just glad his uncle had not yet blamed anybody for the troll debacle. Because it was technically his fault. 

He knew Kili wouldn’t focus on his job and was himself largely responsible for making sure the ponies hadn’t wandered off, and weren’t stolen. Instead he had slipped from his duties momentarily and was rewarded with the ponies being stolen. 

He fixated on his mistakes, going over and over the events of the previous night with fervor. He wanted to know if there was anything he could have done. He had been tied up on the spit though, unable to get off safely to help the others. Still, when the spit had stopped rolling, he had seen the trolls picking up the girl and choking her. He had honestly thought that she was going to die, or be heavily injured. It was only the mercy of Mahal that Tharkun had shown up when he had. 

He missed the announcement of the warg scouts due to his heavy thinking. 

.oOo.

The damn wargs showed up. 

Largely, she knew they would always be coming—it was the main reason she had put in so much effort to steal a pair of fitting boots (though she took them off and quickly put them in her bag, she could run much faster without anything on her feet). However, she had adamantly hoped they would be late or wouldn’t come at all.

Her lungs weren’t good enough to go cross country, and after a lot of back and forth between everybody which she played in her head, they started off in the opposite direction of Radagast and his soft rabbits. She ran forward bouncing on the balls of her feet, giving her more power as she lunged and dodged around the dwarves. 

The dry grass of the plains cut at her calloused feet and her lungs burned and a sharp pain made itself known in her ribcage, but she kept running with everything she had. Many times they had to stop and hide behind the rocks as Radagast swung too close to them for comfort. In fact, the wizard must have been the worst bait in the world. 

On one occasion, she didn’t think she would be able to keep going after they paused and hid. She wanted desperately to throw herself down and focus on breathing, but it was not to be had, so she kept running with tears in her eyes and her nose running as she tried desperately to keep going. 

Finally after about an hour and a half of running, the wargs noticed them and crowded around their hiding spot near the entrance to the cave. Bofur shouted something—most likely the line about the wizard abandoning them—and she knew it was time. 

She ran towards the rocks and threw herself down the slope, landing in a heap at the bottom. 

Her legs burned and she found she couldn’t stand back up because she was trembling so hard, and so to avoid the dwarf pile that would be happening momentarily she rolled into a concealed cove and tried to gulp in greedy heaves of air. 

Her eyes shut against her will and bright spots flashed behind her eyelids. Having low iron levels was not the move and her thoughts kept returning to the empty bottle of iron supplements that lay in her pack. 

Her legs itched and burned and sweat clung to every surface of her body. 

The sounds of arguing dwarves grew closer and she attempted to get up, but found that just like earlier, it was outside of her current abilities. Finally, the elven horns sounded above and they started leaving. 

Bilbo said something to her, probably trying to get her up and out of there, but she waved him away, gesturing that she couldn’t breathe. He made a sad sound and walked off. 

She finally opened her eyes and black spots invaded her vision. Breathing was still a chore and she desperately wanted a large glass of cold water to gulp down as flashes of heat wracked her taxed body. Her legs itched and her skin crawled. In her mind remnants of the lectures from her high school biology class played. Something about lactic acid and expanding capillaries. This was the worst. 

Finally, after several minutes of bullying herself, she managed to stand up with the help of the cavern wall. 

She clung to the wall and slowly made her way forward, stopping periodically to wait out the flashing black spots. She had been dreading the run, knew this was going to happen, but now that it had already happened, she hated it and herself. It wasn’t that she was out of shape, it was just that her body had certain medical limitations and was letting her know that she had crossed them, severely. Her only saving grace was that the stone she was walking barefoot on was cold and served as a balm for her burning feet. 

Eventually, she made it out of the cave and she could properly see Rivendell. It was gorgeous, breathtaking, the perfect place to rest, recuperate, and find an elven maiden to have an affair with. 

Still shaking and exhausted, she carried on with the hopes of what the forward direction would bring. 

.oOo.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hoo Hoo, Rivendell will be posted in 2 weeks! also why does Gandalf get all the good quotable lines?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you again for clicking, or leaving a kudos, comment, bookmark, or subscription. 
> 
> I literally love you so much!


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